


The Only Bridge There Ever Was

by OverlyObsessed223



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Klaus Hargreeves, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kidnapping, No Incest, i'll add tags as i go, klaus is a detective
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26223658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverlyObsessed223/pseuds/OverlyObsessed223
Summary: Traveling around the world for seven years and helping solve world famous homicides? Easy. Summoning ghosts and communicating the circumstances of their deaths to the living world? Piece of cake. Spending eight days with his siblings? Absolutely impossible.Or, Klaus, a medium homicide detective, comes home to investigate the death of his father. He ends up having to deal with so much more than that.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Eudora Patch, Klaus Hargreeves & Everyone, Klaus Hargreeves & Reginald Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & The Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz, Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 85
Kudos: 641





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So, this is my first chaptered fic for this fandom, and I've been pretty excited about it. I hope it's interesting enough lol, I'm certainly having a fun time with this concept so there's that.

The only thing Klaus enjoys about airplanes is the alcohol they serve.

He’s sipping on a glass of brandy now—his third glass, actually, but he’s built his tolerance up so much that he’s not even feeling much of anything right now. However, it’s a balance he’s alright with nowadays, a compromise he had to make if he wanted to go anywhere at all in life. Ben considers the cutbacks an accomplishment on his part, and Klaus doesn’t mind giving him that win, because God knows he’s lost so much already. 

Ben is sitting in the seat across from him, reading a book Klaus can’t remember the name of, because he’s never really been an avid reader (big shock there). Besides the two of them and a stewardess sitting in the back, the small plane is empty as it usually is. Klaus hates flying commercial airlines, not because he’s snobby or anything like that, but because the more people around, the more ghosts that follow, and even if Klaus has learned to tolerate the ghosts it certainly doesn’t mean he likes them any more than he did twenty years ago. And, the peace and quiet is nice. 

Ben looks up from his book for the first time since they boarded the plane, his eyes straying to look at the manilla file folder sitting on the table in between them. 

“Aren’t you gonna read that?” Ben frowns at the untouched folder. 

“Nah,” Klaus answers, swirling his drink around in his glass. 

“But what if there’s important information in there? Aren’t you even gonna skim over it?”

“What’s the point?” Klaus takes another sip of his drink as he lazily sinks even farther into his chair. “The geezers always tell me everything anyway, and I like hearing it from them. Makes it feel fresh, you know?”

Ben sighs, shaking his head just the tiniest bit before going back to his book—he has to pick his battles with Klaus and this isn’t one he cares enough about to fight. 

The stewardess fills his glass once again—the last one before he’s on the clock, he swears to Ben. The stewardess shoots uneasy glances at the chair where Ben’s sitting, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to, because she knows Klaus is talking to a ghost—she knows who Klaus is.

Once she walks away, Klaus lets his gaze fall back onto the folder, and he really hopes it’s not a child case. Adult cases are always sad too, of course, because murder is sad, but the case from last month where he had to talk with a bloodied, sobbing little girl still sits fresh on his mind. Those always tend to bum him out for a couple of days afterward, and they never fail to make Ben snappier than usual. 

The seatbelt sign flashes on, a sign that they’re landing soon, and so begrudgingly Klaus sits up and snaps his seatbelt across his lap—he may be an idiot with zero self-preservation skills whatsoever, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t follow airfare rules to a T. When the plane lands ten minutes later, Klaus shuffles off of the plane with his backpack and duffle bag, taking a moment to slip the stewardess and the pilot each a generous tip because he always tries to tip people who have to deal with him for hours on end. Klaus makes his way through the Chicago airport, keeping a close eye out for paparazzi that might’ve caught wind that he was going to be here, feeling amused when a few people around him stare as he walks by.

He doesn’t even have to check to see if Ben is on his heels. 

He skips past the suitcase area because he never packs a suitcase. Everything he needs he carries around on his person at all times, and he’s pretty good at fitting his wardrobe into his duffle bag—a skill he learned when he was homeless on the streets. The pickup area is crowded, with many drivers standing around holding up signs with names on them, so it takes Klaus a good minute to find the sign with ‘HARGREEVES’ printed on it.

“Detective Hargreeves!” the man holding the sign greets him warmly as Klaus approaches. He’s at least a foot shorter than Klaus, wearing a suit, and his brown hair is gelled back—the state obviously sent a higher-end driver, which Klaus does appreciate but finds unnecessary overall. 

“Just Klaus, please,” Klaus requests, reaching out to shake the driver’s hand. 

“Of course,” the driver nods. “My name’s Charlie Cooper, and my car is right over there.”

Charlie leads Klaus to his black SUV, offering to put Klaus’ bag in the trunk, but Klaus declines, preferring to keep it close. Klaus lets Ben crawl into the car first before sliding in himself, Charlie getting settled up front. 

“Straight to the house, sir?” Charlie asks as he pulls away from the curb, navigating the airport parking lot carefully. 

“Yeah, probably,” Klaus nods, checking the small black and yellow Lego Batman watch that’s on his left wrist—there’s not enough time to drive through anywhere for food. Oh well, he’ll eat later, hopefully, waffles. 

The first half of the ride is spent in silence, save for the radio which is currently playing out a baseball game, with Klaus mumbling to Ben whenever he sees somewhere he might want to eat at later. Ben proceeds to respond not by making a dinner suggestion but by reminding Klaus that he left the folder with the case information on the plane. Klaus shrugs, reminding his dead brother that he wouldn’t have read it anyway, so it doesn’t matter, and then they fall into silence. 

Klaus doesn’t miss Charlie’s quick glances at him through the rearview mirror.

“So, uh, if you don’t mind me asking,” Charlie pipes up, and Klaus looks up at him. “Is it true that… you can actually see ghosts?”

“Yeah, yeah, I see all the ghosties,” Klaus nods with a half-grin, and Charlie’s eyes widen.

“Wow—it’s so cool to meet you, by the way—I was a big fan of the Academy when I was younger,” Charlie continues. “Though, I don’t remember you being as involved as the others.”

Klaus remembers all too well being looked over in favor of his other siblings, and sure, he understands why—nobody wants to interview the _lookout_ of all people. Though he didn’t mind not being in the spotlight as much as his brothers or sister, it still stung to be the useless one, the disappointment. 

“I guess you could say I wasn’t... built for The Umbrella Academy,” Klaus says, doing his best to not let the fact that it bothers him show on his face. Ben, however, knows very well his feelings on the Academy, and his face deepens with sympathy. As if Ben has anything to be sympathetic over—he’s the one who died as a result of their father’s misguided attempt to create a well-functioning child superhero team. 

“You do really good work now, though,” Charlie seems to have picked up on the shift of air in the car. “So many people given the justice they deserve. Hey, what’s one of the most famous cases you’ve solved?”

Klaus ponders over the question for a moment. “Well, I’ve solved so many cases that I can’t remember all of them,” he says, “but I was able to speak to Nicole Brown Simpson a few years ago and she had many… unkind words regarding her ex-husband.”

“So he did do it?”

“Oh, of course, he did.”

Charlie chuckles, and Klaus fiddles with his coat buttons. 

“You know, one of my brothers is a ghost, and he’s sitting right next to me,” Klaus says suddenly, and the smile on Charlie’s face falls a little. “He’s asking if you wouldn’t mind changing the station to something… pop.”

Charlie glances at the empty seat next to Klaus like many do when realizing there’s a ghost sitting in their presence, before nodding and reaching over to change the radio station.

“You’re an asshole,” Ben rolls his eyes, not even bothering to look up from his book. 

“Ben, tell me something new, why don’t you?”

* * *

Charlie parks the car in front of the house Klaus has been summoned to, settling in to wait because he knows he’ll be responsible for Klaus for the rest of the time he’s in Chicago.

“Poor guy,” Ben mutters, and Klaus makes his brother solid long enough to slap him on the arm. 

Multiple police cars are sitting outside the old, two-story house that they’re about to go into. He slips on a pair of sunglasses once he notices the reporters who are all standing behind the police tape that goes around the perimeter of the house, all watching him step out of the car like hawks watching a mouse, and he makes sure to not make any unflattering faces lest the flashing cameras manage to capture a horrible photo of him. Klaus has no idea how Allison actually _wanted_ this to be her life—this lifestyle is _draining,_ and he’s not even at her level of fame. 

Chicago PD’s lead detective, Detective Lorianne Nelson, waits for him just outside of the police tape, her hair tied up in a ponytail, and her sunglasses resting on the bridge of her nose. She visibly smiles with relief when she notices Klaus walking towards her, much like all of his clients do when he shows his pretty face. A middle-aged woman is standing next to Detective Nelson, a woman who looks put together enough considering the circumstances, although the skin around her eyes is stained with black mascara. Most likely the wife of the victim—not that Klaus knows for sure, he didn’t read the file. 

“This is the third time I’ve seen you in two weeks, Detective,” Klaus grins while raising an eyebrow. “What the hell is going on in Chicago?”

“I don’t know,” Detective Nelson admits with a sigh, and Klaus can see the tiredness in her expression even past the sunglasses. “Crime rates always rise this time of year here. Certainly keeps me busy.”

“I can tell,” Klaus says before clapping his hands together. “Alright, shall we begin?”

“Yes, we shall. Klaus, this is Marsha Walker, David’s wife,” Detective Nelson says, gesturing towards the woman standing next to her. Klaus offers his hand out, flashy rings, tattoos, and all, and she shakes it with a small, polite smile. “Mrs. Walker, this is Detective Klaus Hargreeves. He’s a former member of the Umbrella Academy and he can speak to the dead. He’ll be attempting to summon your husband to talk with him and ask him about the circumstances of his death.”

“At your service, ma’am,” Klaus smiles, raising his hand to his forehead in mock salute. “Now, before we get started, are there any important details regarding your husband or his death that I should know about?”

“Wait, I thought they gave you a file?” Detective Nelson frowns.

“They did.”

“...did you read it? Everything important is in there, you know.”

Ben smirks from where he’s leaning against a police car, and if they weren’t in public, Klaus would slap the look off his face. 

“Of course I read the file,” Klaus lies easily, waving off her suspicion with his hand. “C’mon, Detective, I am nothing less than a _professional_. I just like to get information first hand from people.”

“Okay, well, David is—uh, was—a person with a large political influence,” Mrs. Walker gives, and Klaus is sympathetic towards the way she’s struggling to stay calm. “I suspect his death could have had something to do with that, but of course I could be wrong.”

“I guess we’re about to find out, huh?” At that, Mrs. Walker leads them both into the house, which is currently filled with the forensics team, who are gathering all evidence that could be used in court. The house is cozy and warm, despite the door being constantly open and swarmed with various people, and it’s nicely decorated, telling Klaus that the Walker’s are well off for sure. It also doesn’t look like anything was taken, but he overhears someone on the forensics team mumbling something about a smashed-in window in the garage. 

Klaus tries not to think too much—he’s only a medium, really.

Mrs. Walker takes them upstairs, and shows them Mr. Walker’s study—the place where he was murdered, and therefore would have a greater connection with. Mrs. Walker gazes at him with wide eyes as she steps aside to allow Klaus to look inside the room, Detective Nelson standing on the other side of the doorway, peering into the room as if she’s expecting to see a ghost already. 

“So you’re actually going to—going to see my husband?” Mrs. Walker questions, her voice shaking ever so slightly. 

“Most likely, ma’am,” Klaus says, pausing to look at her. This is always hard on family members, so he does try to make sure they understand what’s going on out of respect—no matter what Ben says, he’s not a _complete_ asshole. “I’m able to summon the majority of ghosts I try to summon. Sometimes, I’ll get a stubborn one, but those kinds of cases are usually special cases.”

Detective Nelson huffs at that, probably in remembrance of last week—it had taken Klaus over three hours to get their victim to materialize. 

Now, _that_ was a long day. 

“Okay, well, good luck in there,” Mrs. Walker says kindly, and Klaus doesn’t bother to tell her that he never works on luck alone. 

As soon as he enters, he sees the blood-spattered on the walls and the hardwood floor and lets out a low whistle.

“Woah, that is a lot of blood,” Ben says from behind him, walking forward to study the area covered in blood more closely. “And look, you can tell it was a gunshot wound that killed him—look at the direction the blood is splattered.”

“See, this is why I keep you around, Watson.”

“I thought you keep me around to babysit you?” Ben raises an eyebrow as he turns to look at Klaus. “And don’t call me Watson, that’s too cheesy, even for you, Klaus.”

“Nothing’s too cheesy for me, Benji,” Klaus grins. “Alright, splatter aside, let’s chat with this guy so we can go get dinner. I’m thinking waffles, you good with waffles?”

“Whatever makes you happy, Klaus,” Ben says, his words dripping with too much sarcasm for Klaus’ liking, but he decides not to comment on it this time. Ben folds his arms and leans back onto the desk as Klaus moves to stand in the middle of the room. 

Klaus concentrates for a couple of moments, and then his fists are glowing blue, bathing the room in its glow, and then he begins searching for the correct soul to summon. 

(Once or twice, he’s accidentally summoned the wrong person. 

That was awkward, to say the least.)

“David Walker, you there? I summon thee to speak to me!” 

The blue light gets stronger, and suddenly the outline of a man starts to form three feet away from where Klaus is standing. Klaus continues to push, well aware that he looks like he’s in the middle of taking a shit, and the man becomes less and less transparent as he does. 

David Walker is standing in front of him, and Klaus’ hands stop glowing. 

“Um… who are you? What’s going on?” David asks nervously. There’s a gunshot wound in his upper left temple, covering his entire left side of his face with blood—Ben was right, like always. Klaus grimaces at the sight of the man, because even though he’s been doing this for years now, seeing gruesome injuries like that never fail to make him feel sick. 

“Hi, David,” Klaus says gently, softly, Mrs. Walker gasping from behind him. It’s always hard, explaining to ghosts that they’re dead. Some take it better than others. “You’re in your study, and we’re trying to solve your murder.”

“M-Murder?” David’s eyes widen to the size of saucers, and Klaus winces. 

“You get smoother every time, Klaus,” Ben says. David looks between the two of them, his expression frantic, on the border of hysterical.

Damnit, these always end up taking longer. 

“Shut up, Ben.”

It ends up taking ten minutes to calm David down enough to ask him questions about his death. 

“I was reading in my study, Frankenstein, to be specific—”

“I love that book!” Ben exclaims, and both of their faces brighten. 

“So do I, it’s a great piece of literature,” David agrees, and Klaus wants to groan because this is cutting into his waffle time now for sure. 

“I’m able to relate to it so well—you know, I’m kind of a monster myself, so I’m able to empathize with—”

“Okay, that’s enough nerding out, guys,” Klaus cuts into the conversation, causing Ben to throw him a dirty look, but David’s attention is back on him so Klaus could care less about Ben’s feelings on this matter. 

“I was reading, and I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, but I wasn’t listening closely and I thought it was Marsha,” David continues with his story. Klaus pulls out his notebook and starts jotting down notes for Detective Nelson to reference too. “It… it was my lover, Jaci Stone.”

Klaus pauses at that, giving Ben a surprised look, one very similar to Ben’s expression, because whatever either of them was expecting, it sure as hell wasn’t that.

“Oh, okay,” is all Klaus can say to that. He glances over at Mrs. Walker, who is standing there chewing her lip, eyes still wide with love, sadness, and curiosity, and Klaus doesn’t know how he’s going to tell her. “Um… and then what happened?”

“Well, she was angry with me because I refused to leave Marsha,” David goes on, shooting Marsha a guilty look. “I told her I would never divorce my wife, just because that would be _horrible_ for my image, and my image is everything. Was everything, I guess. But yeah, she shot and killed me, and now we’re here.”

“Well,” Klaus clicks his pen shut and shoves it into his coat pocket, for once not at all happy with how quick this interview was. “That’s a wrap, don’t you think, Ben?”

“Yeah, I think we’re done here,” Ben pushes off the desk and goes to stand next to Klaus, all the while making David the new recipient of his trademark Dirty Looks. For once, he and Klaus are on the exact same page, a united front. That doesn’t happen very often, but it’s sure as hell happening now. 

Klaus waves his hand, and in less than a second, David Walker is gone, doomed to whatever fate lies in store for him. 

Klaus rips the half page of notes out of his notebook, but not before signing his signature towards the bottom to validate it. He hands it to Detective Nelson, who looks confused by Klaus’ sudden shift in attitude, but when she reads over the notes the confusion goes away, left with a mixture of disgust and sadness.

“Thank you so much for your time today, Klaus,” Detective Nelson says once she looks up from the paper. “This helps tremendously. As long as forensics finds any kind of DNA, we should be able to lock her up quickly.”

“I’m always happy to help, Detective,” Klaus tells her, completely earnest this time. “Anytime you need me, I’m one call away. Unless I’m booked up, but I always figure something out.”

Detective Nelson nods, swallowing thickly as she glances over at Mrs. Walker. “I’ll take things from here, Klaus. It was good seeing you again—take care.”

“ _Audios_ ,” Klaus says, and then he’s out of there fast, Ben right on his heels. 

“Wow,” Ben says when they reach the bottom of the stairs. “I know I said I’m a monster, but he’s the real monster here.”

Klaus frowns at that, glancing at his deceased brother.

“You’re not a monster, Ben,” Klaus says softly, ignoring the man standing at the other end of the living room staring at him, and he knows he’s right. Sure, the tentacles in Ben’s stomach may be monster-ish, but Ben himself is far from it. He can be a sarcastic asshole, and perhaps death and being stuck by Klaus’ side has changed him, but underneath it all, he’s still that quiet, empathetic boy who always has his nose in a book. 

“Yeah, I know that,” Ben tells him, but he doesn’t seem like he truly does. 

Klaus nods and decides to push the topic away until a later date when they can have a real discussion about it. 

“So… I’m thinking waffles, you want waffles, Ben?”

“Well, I can’t eat, but I’ll eat with you… in spirit.”

Klaus grins as wide as the Cheshire Cat. 

He walks out of the house, putting his sunglasses back on, and his smile promptly fades at the sound of several people shouting—shouting at _him._

“Klaus, did you speak with the victim?”

“Klaus, your sister stated in her book you can’t conjure when you’re high. Are you intoxicated right now at this moment?”

“Klaus, look over here!”

“Just keep walking,” Ben’s voice comes into his ear, grounding him. 

Sometimes, Klaus thinks he prefers the sound of the dead to the living. 

* * *

They’re eating waffles at Denny’s when Klaus gets the call. 

Charlie hands his cell phone to him, and Klaus has to take a moment to wipe sticky syrup off of his fingers before grabbing it and holding it to his ear.

“Klaus,” Klaus says simply into the phone because he never has to say anything else anyways. 

“Hey, Klaus,” Detective Beaman’s voice greets him solemnly, and Klaus feels his heart drop.

“Oh God, what did Diego do now?”

“What? No, this isn’t about him, not this time,” Beaman says, and Klaus feels himself relax. 

“Oh, good. So what’s going on at my favorite police department?”

“Klaus, we need you to come back home for a case,” Beaman tells him, and Klaus wracks his brain trying to remember if he’s free tomorrow or not. Most likely he is, but he turns and asks Ben anyways just to be sure.

“Okay, yeah, I can be there sometime tomorrow,” Klaus says, and part of him is glad to be going back to his hometown. The other part wants to stay as far away as possible.

“I think you’d better come right now, Klaus,” Beaman says, and Klaus frowns. 

“Oh? Who are we dealing with, here?”

Beaman pauses for a moment, and Klaus waits, using his other hand to cut off another piece of waffle with his fork. 

“Klaus, it’s your father. He’s dead.”

Klaus doesn’t mean to laugh, he really doesn’t.

But he laughs anyway.

* * *

His plane lands two hours later.

The moment he steps off the plane, he’s met with the little ghost boy, Luka, who always likes to follow him around town. He usually doesn’t speak, and he’s always covered in blood and is visibly shaking, but he seems to find Klaus’ presence comfortable enough to stick close to him. He refuses to follow Klaus out of town, though, which Klaus doesn’t get, but it is what it is. 

“I thought for sure the old man had a few more years left,” Klaus comments as he and Ben walk down the street towards a taxi that’s waiting for him. “But I guess good things _do_ happen, huh?”

“Isn’t the fact that you’re being called to investigate kind of telling that he didn’t die of natural causes, though?” Ben points out, seeming more skeptical than sad at the news of their father’s death. 

“Honestly, who the hell even cares?” Klaus shrugs but then rethinks his words. “Well, Luther will care. But I’m sure he’s the only one, and as far as I’m concerned, Luther can eat dirt.”

“ _Klaus_ ,” Ben reprimands him, his eyebrows furrowing. “Look, I know he can be a jerk and a real pain in the ass sometimes, but he’s still your brother.”

“That’s the problem,” Klaus sighs as he opens the door to the taxi. “That means I still, unfortunately, have ties to him.”

“Just get in the damn taxi,” Ben commands exasperatedly, and Klaus rolls his eyes but still gets inside the taxi.

Klaus mutters out an address to the taxi driver, who, to his credit, doesn’t seem perplexed at the fact that a former member of the Umbrella Academy just got into his vehicle—most drivers he comes across at least stare a little before coming to their senses. The driver just nods and drives in silence, which Klaus finds comforting. He leans forward, putting his head in his hands as a wave of exhaustion sets over him. He’s been constantly moving around the country for years now, and even though he’s learned to tolerate the ghosts to be able to do his job, they still haunt him, some in his mind, some in real life. 

It’s been a long seven years.

Not that Klaus would trade those years or what he does for anything. He finds that helping victims get the justice that they deserve helps them find peace and move on, and after years of not being able to help the ghosts who begged and screamed for it, it’s nice to be able to do something for them. He turned his life around finally, getting off the hard drugs and embracing his powers for good, just like most of his siblings. 

Klaus briefly wonders if Hargreeves was proud of him for finally accessing the potential he had tried to beat out of him as a child. 

Probably not, he concludes. Once a disappointment, always a disappointment in his father’s eyes, and not even his Number One made him truly proud, but it doesn’t matter anyway now because the geezer is dead.

Klaus wonders if any of his siblings know yet.

The taxi pulls up to the mansion, and maybe it’s silly, but Klaus tries not to look at it at first. He’s gonna have to go in anyway, but he doesn’t want to look at the house that was an extension of their abusive father, his childhood prison. Ben heaves a sigh next to him, the ghost looking down at his shoes, and Klaus is just glad he won’t have to do this alone. 

“Ready?” Klaus asks quietly, his hand resting on the door handle.

“Huh?” the driver frowns, but Klaus doesn’t spare him a glance. 

“Yeah,” Ben nods, his smile tight and forced. “Yeah, let’s go. It’s just a house, right?”

“Right,” Klaus echoes as he opens the door, throwing a couple of twenties at the driver before stepping out. “It’s just a house.”

The taxi pulls away, leaving Klaus standing just outside the gate that leads to the front door. 

“Klaus?” Klaus turns his attention to his left and is relieved when he sees Detective Eudora Patch walking towards him, and the first thing he thinks about is how _beautiful_ her long trench coat is.

“Eudora, darling!” Klaus grins in greeting at his friend, spreading his arms out wide for a hug. 

For the first few years when Klaus started helping out on local cases, he became rather close with Eudora, who showed him the ropes and taught him how to be a functioning human being (the latter is still a work in progress). He’d witnessed the rise and fall of her relationship with his brother Diego, making sure to stand neutral while still helping his brother through his rough patch—it was the least he could do, after all the years of Diego helping Klaus with his persistent drug addiction. Every time Klaus comes back to the city, he always looks forward to catching up with Eudora, usually while simultaneously trying to solve a murder. 

Eudora hugs him back, a small smile on her face. 

“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” Eudora says when they step away. She glances up at the mansion in front of her, and she seems conflicted between sadness and satisfaction, because she’s heard a lot about Sir Reginald Hargreeves from both Diego and Klaus, enough to know that he was a monster plain and simple. “I know you have a busy schedule.”

“Yes, I’ll be honest, I was looking forward to watching tonight's episode of the Bachelor,” Klaus sighs sadly, checking his watch to see if by some miracle he’ll make it back to his appointment in time. No such luck, it starts in thirty minutes. Luckily, he has it set to record, but it’s not the same as watching it in real-time. “But we all know this field is… unpredictable.”

“Well... “ Eudora bites down on her lip for a moment as she searches for the right words to say. “I’m sorry for your loss, Klaus. This must be… hard, I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now.”

Klaus waves off her words. “Oh, don’t worry about it, dear, I’ll just watch it later tonight—I have it recording.”

Eudora frowns. “Klaus, I was talking about your father.”

“Oh,” Klaus pauses, and he must admit he’d briefly forgotten why exactly they’re here, too wrapped up in his thoughts about last week's episode. “I’m _super_ sad about that too. Devastated actually,” Klaus adds, putting his hand to his heart in a show of grief.

Eudora gives him a funny look, obviously seeing through his act so he drops it—no need to waste his theatrics. 

“Alright, let’s go talk to the asshole one last time before he gets dropped into hell,” Klaus takes the opportunity to shift the conversation, turning back to finally look up at the Academy. It looks just like it did the day he ran away at seventeen and never looked back, and Klaus can’t help but feel like it’s watching him, waiting for him to move closer so it can pull him back into its walls. 

“I’m right behind you,” Eudora says, her eyes solemn and sympathetic.

“So, was the old man murdered?” Klaus asks as they climb the steps to the front door, needing to talk about something to keep himself calm and focused. 

“They haven’t done an autopsy yet,” Eudora answers as Klaus puts his fingers on the door handle, wrapping them around the knob and pulling the door open. “They found him in his bed, apparently he died in his sleep, but… he was a strange man, so we thought we’d get you to come and ask just to make sure nothing suspicious went down.”

Klaus nods his head in understanding as he steps into the house. Almost immediately, he’s met with the ghost of one of the dead nannies that have been here all his life—her neck is snapped, and she’s looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. Another older man who must have died centuries ago phases through the wall, shouting when he notices Klaus has come back. 

“Ignore them,” Ben says quietly from where he’s standing next to Klaus, glaring at the ghosts as if daring them to come one step closer, and Klaus wants to stutter out a joke about Ben being his ghostly bodyguard but the words die in his throat. 

The bedroom, he needs to go to the bedroom, because that’s the last connection his father had in the living world. Either that or his study, but Klaus decides to check the bedroom first, still feeling uneasy about entering his father’s study. 

“How’s Diego doing?” Klaus questions as he begins moving through the house, not liking how the only sounds he can hear are the ghosts that will always haunt this house. 

“We’re not together, Klaus, remember?” Eudora reminds him, her tone firm but Klaus can detect a hint of wistfulness in her voice. 

“I know that,” Klaus says as they climb the stairs that lead to Reginald’s bedroom, listening closely for sounds of their mother or Pogo, both of whom should still live here. Klaus never thought he’d see the day Luther didn’t live at the Academy, but he supposes living on the moon for the last four years isn’t much better. “But I assume he’s still doing the whole vigilante shtick and meddling with your cases, am I right?”

“Yup, he’s still at it,” Eudora sighs with frustration as if the mere thought of his brother is enough to instantly make her tired. “No matter what I say, he won’t listen—he just always shows up in his stupid leather outfit and tries to play Batman.”

Klaus knows too well how she feels—he has also tried to knock some sense into his headstrong brother (metaphorically, of course), and he’s had to watch as Diego lost more and more of his life, fueled by his desire to defy his father, but ironically becoming what their father had hoped he would become. His inability to listen to authority was what got him kicked out of Police Academy, and he spiraled from there. Now, last Klaus has heard, Diego’s living in the boiler room of a gym.

“Hell will freeze over the minute Diego decides to listen to anyone other than himself,” Klaus remarks, and Eudora hums in agreement. 

All their lives, the door to Reginald’s bedroom remained closed and locked. His father had always been paranoid and perhaps even afraid (afraid of what? Of _them_?), and so under no circumstances was anyone besides Grace to enter his room. Now that he’s gone, the door is wide open for anyone to enter, and it’s a strange sight. Klaus stops in front of the doorframe, glancing around as if the old man is going to suddenly come around the corner.

“Klaus? Are you sure you want to do this?” Eudora’s voice is quiet, gentle. 

And if he’s being honest, _no,_ he doesn’t want to summon his abusive, sociopathic father, not so soon after the universe did Klaus a favor by getting rid of him. But he knows he’ll have to eventually—Luther will demand it, he’s sure—and he might as well do it while he’s here. Ben hovers a hand over Klaus’ shoulder, and even though Ben’s not currently solid Klaus can somehow still feel the hand squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. 

So Klaus doesn’t answer her, and instead closes his eyes, channeling all of his powers into summoning the old bastard. He feels the power flow into his hands, sees the blue glow from behind his eyelids, and searches hard for his father’s spirit. “C’mon, Reggie, show yourself,” Klaus mutters lowly, feeling his energy draining by the second as he continues to search.

Klaus cracks open his eyes and is met with nothing but empty space. 

“Goddamnit,” Klaus groans, because _of course_ his father is deciding to be a stubborn prick even in death. 

He tries for thirty more minutes, even going as far as standing in Reginald’s office to get a better connection, but nothing comes out of it.

Maybe it’s not Klaus’ fault, but he almost finds it funny that his father is still making him feel like an utter disappointment. 

And really, Klaus isn’t even surprised. 


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to power through this chapter, not gonna lie, but it's finished and we're onto bigger and better things!

In the end, Klaus gives up on trying to summon his father. 

Quite honestly, he finds that he doesn’t  _ care _ enough to spend his entire night standing in this god awfully ugly house, unwilling to stand in his father’s room on the off chance that he may decide to stop being the stubborn asshole he was in life and show himself. He throws his hands in the air as if to say  _ what can ya do?  _ Eudora raises an eyebrow as he walks out of the room, but doesn’t say anything as she follows him down the stairs towards the front door. Klaus glances at Ben, and isn’t surprised to see his brother looking almost... relieved, and that in itself is enough to keep Klaus from feeling bad about not trying harder. 

“Whatever shows up on his autopsy, go with that,” Klaus tells Eudora and he pulls the door open, stepping outside into the chilly March air. The moment he steps out of the house, away from its clutches, he feels like a weight has lifted off of his chest, releasing him back out into the real world. God, he hates that house. 

“How often are you not able to summon spirits?” Eudora frowns as she follows Klaus outside, gently tugging the door shut behind her. “I’ve never seen you have trouble like that before.”

Klaus reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter, lighting it up quickly and taking a drag to calm his nerves. “Hardly ever happens, nowadays,” he answers her after he blows the smoke out of his mouth. “But Hargreeves never plays by anyone else’s rules. I should have expected that, really.” 

Eudora nods, brushing away a few strands of hair that fell out of her ponytail before sticking her hands into the pockets of her trench coat. “I’m sorry,” she says for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, but this time, Klaus isn’t sure what exactly she’s sorry for. Maybe she’s not either. “I assume you’ll be here tomorrow, for the funeral?”

Klaus frowns at that because he hadn’t even thought of the fact that there’ll be a funeral. Will any of his siblings even come? Surely Luther will come back from his moon trip, as he’s the only one of them all who actually  _ liked _ Sir Reginald, but as for the others, he has no idea. 

“Maybe,” Klaus says finally after a moment of pondering. He hears Ben huff from where he’s sitting on a bench near them, and Klaus feels his heart clench at the sadness pooling in his brother’s eyes. Klaus sighs. “Probably. Most likely. If you need to reach me I should be here. If not, you have the number for my apartment.”

“You’re sticking around, then?”

“I’m already here, might as well,” Klaus shrugs, taking another drag of his cigarette. Today has been  _ long _ . “How long until this reaches the press?”

Eudora takes one of her hands out of her coat pocket to check her watch. “Any minute now. I bet there’ll be cameras here soon, so we should go. Need a ride?”

Klaus nods his head gratefully, and she leads him to her squad car that’s parked right down the street. He gives one last lingering look at the mansion, and in one of the windows, he sees a familiar shape in the window, watching him with old, tired eyes. 

Klaus tears his gaze away from Pogo and climbs into the backseat of the car, 

* * *

His apartment block is about ten minutes away from the Academy. He would have moved further away, but this certain apartment building struck his eye years ago when he was looking for a place to live in when he comes back every once in a while. It’s nice, for one, with high-end security, meaning it should keep unwelcome intruders out. 

_ Should _ being the keyword there. 

“I’m gonna say it,” Klaus says to Ben as they climb the stairs that lead to his apartment on the third floor. The building has elevators, but Klaus has never been a fan of… tight spaces, so they always take the stairs. “We’re a cooler duo than Holmes and Watson.”

Ben rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue, just allows Klaus to ramble on as he usually does. They pass the ghost of a man who’s currently crying his eyes out at the bottom of the second-floor landing, his neck broken and his head smashed in. He’s there every time Klaus comes by, so they ignore him. 

“I mean, think about it, I’m the medium detective with a few screws loose, and you’re my smart, ghost partner who appreciates my genius and uses his brains to help me out,” Klaus continues, not even breaking a sweat as they reach the third floor. 

“Define genius,” Ben raises an eyebrow in question, and Klaus sticks his tongue out at him as adults do. He doesn’t give Ben the satisfaction of an answer, instead of reaching into his backpack, spending two minutes trying to find the key to his apartment, it’s in here  _ somewhere— _ ah, there it is. He pulls it out and uses the key to unlock the door, and he’s greeted by his dark, practically untouched apartment. It’s been, what? Five months since he’s been here? It’s difficult keeping track of time these days. 

Klaus enters the apartment with a sigh, Ben walking in and flopping down on the couch. Klaus tosses his bag down onto a chair, and takes a moment to greet Gladys—she’s a woman who died in this apartment about ten years ago, shot in the head by her husband to gain full custody of their son. She died while pulling cookies out of the oven, and so now she’s eternally holding a tray of chocolate chip cookies. Gladys offers him a cookie silently, but Klaus shakes his head politely—the cookies, as good as they may be, are soggy from being soaked in the blood that’s dripping from her face. 

“Wait, Klaus, do you hear that?” Klaus turns to look at his brother, who is now sitting up on the couch, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

“Hear what?” Klaus looks where Ben’s eyes are trained, towards the doorway that leads to his bedroom, and he practically jumps two feet in the air when he comes face to face with a dark, and very real, form.

Diego steps out of the shadows once he realizes he’s been caught, knife in his hand, seeming just as alarmed as Klaus feels. 

“What the  _ hell,  _ Diego?” Klaus puts his hand to his chest, feeling his heart pounding against his palm. 

“I thought someone was breaking in or something!” Diego tries to quickly explain, putting his knife back in his belt. “I didn’t know it was you!”

Klaus twists his head, noticing for the first time that his living room window is wide open. “You’re the one who broke in, man! Jesus Christ!” He takes a moment to calm down, and as he does he gets a good look at his brother. He’s dressed in his usual leather black vigilante suit, as he always is when Klaus manages to stumble into him, and he’s clutching his upper right arm with his left hand. He’s concentrated, always focused on whatever task he’s working on, his eyes always darting around looking for trouble that almost always isn’t there. “What are you doing here?”

His tone is anything but accusatory because even though he’d just caught his brother breaking into his apartment, he honestly doesn’t care. Klaus is hardly ever here anymore, evident by the pristine shape the apartment is in and the practically empty fridge, and he knows that Diego, even with his strange outlook on the law and criminal justice, wouldn’t go out of his way to steal from his siblings.  _ Like you did,  _ a voice in his mind whispers, and luckily after years of practice, he’s able to shake the voice away. 

Diego glances at his bicep, and with a sigh, he lifts his hand, revealing a very deep, bloody cut. “I ran out of bandages at my place. I was hoping you’d have some here.”

Klaus lets out a sympathetic hiss as he gets a good look at the cut, and a part of him doesn’t want to know how it happened. 

“I do,” Klaus tells him before pointing towards the couch where Ben is still sitting, watching. “Sit down, I’ll be back.” 

Diego tries to protest, but Klaus just shoves him gently towards the couch, and his brother relents with a grumble. After he’s satisfied that Diego won’t run off into the night, Klaus quickly jogs into the bathroom, opening up the cabinet and pulling out a first aid kit he’s always hung onto—this isn’t the first time Klaus has patched up his vigilante brother, and he’s certain it won’t be the last. Perhaps slightly inconveniencing, but it’s better than Diego bleeding out in an alleyway. 

When he comes back into the living room, he motions for Ben to get up off of the couch. 

“I was here first,” Ben protests, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. 

“I’m sitting there whether you move or not,” Klaus threatens, and even though Ben doesn’t look happy about it, he gets up to sit in a chair right next to the TV. 

Diego raises an eyebrow as gazes around slowly, his eyes searching for something he’ll never find. “Ghosts?”

“Yup,” Klaus answers absentmindedly as he opens up the first aid kit, rummaging around for the antiseptic. Diego nods, not questioning further as he fidgets uneasily. That reaction isn’t unusual—his siblings have always been made uncomfortable by his powers, never able to truly understand what they are. “So. What evil baddie gave you this? 

“It was a home invasion,” Diego mumbles, hardly flinching at all when Klaus begins to keep his wound, flexing his left hand because he doesn’t know exactly what to do with them now. Diego’s always needed to have something in his hands, whether it’s a knife, the neck of a thief, or their mother’s skirt. “I saved a family—they would have been shot if I hadn’t been there.”

Klaus hums in understanding. He almost tells Diego something along the lines of  _ I’m proud of you,  _ and he is—he’s always been proud of his big brother’s willingness to put himself in the line of fire to save someone else, but at the last minute he changes his mind because this isn’t a career choice he’s willing to encourage. Accept, possibly, but not encourage. 

“What would this city do without their Walmart version of Batman?” Klaus says instead, the corners of his lips twisting up into a smile. Ben snorts from where he’s sitting, his book opened in his hands. “I spoke with Detective Patch tonight, by the way. She’s getting fed up with your meddling, that’s for damn sure.”

Diego stiffens under Klaus’ touch. Eudora Patch is still a sore spot for him, Klaus knows, and anyone who’s not an idiot can see that he’s still hopelessly in love with her. 

“I’m not going to stop, Klaus, so you can spare the lecture,” Diego says tiredly because this is not the first time they’ve had this conversation. “Saving people is what I have to do, I’ve told you this before.”

Klaus’ fingers pause and he glances up at Diego, giving him a look as if to say,  _ really? _

“When are you going to quit fooling yourself?” Klaus half asks, half demands. Diego frowns at his words. “You’re not doing this to save lives, you’re doing this to prove a point.”

Diego opens his mouth to argue, but Klaus cuts him off before he can say anything. 

“I know you, Di—a lot better than you think,” Klaus’ eyes linger on Diego’s for a moment before he shifts them downward, going back to cleaning the wound on his arm. Once the wound is cleaned, Klaus grabs the bandages and sets to work wrapping Diego’s arm.

“What are you doing back here?” Diego asks, their previous conversation dropped but not forgotten. “Are you on a case? Nothing big happened on the police radio today.”

“Okay, first of all, you shouldn’t have a police radio, and second…” Klaus ties off the bandage and leans back, not sure how he should tell his brother that their father is dead. Surely he doesn’t know yet, or else he would have brought it up. Not quite sure how to break the news, Klaus decides to grab the remote that was sitting on the coffee table and flicks the TV on, the Breaking News Report flashing across the screen. 

“ _ Billionaire Sir Reginald Hargreeves died in his sleep early this morning, police reports say. We don’t know exactly—” _

“Damn,” Diego breathes, his face unreadable. Klaus hums in agreement while he packs the first aid kit away. Ben has lowered his book, his eyes focusing on the TV as if this is the first time he’s hearing about this. “Would it be insensitive if I said ‘thank God’?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Klaus shrugs as he stands up and enters the kitchen, checking the fridge for anything edible. He’ll have to run to the store if he’s going to be staying here for a few days. “Luther would pummel you if you said that in front of him—”

“I’d  _ love _ to see him try,” Diego smirks, now sharpening one of his knives.

“—but anyone else would probably agree with you,” Klaus finishes with a smile, reaching into his alcohol cabinet and sighing with relief when he finds it fully stocked. He sends a quick thanks to Past Klaus and pulls a bottle of red wine down, setting it on the counter and reaching for a glass. “Hey, want a drink?”

“No, thanks,” Diego frowns as he stands up from the couch, TV forgotten as he sits down on one of Klaus’ barstools. “I thought you were sober?”

Klaus laughs at that as he pours himself a drink. “I haven’t been completely sober since I was thirteen. I’ve gotta keep the ghosties at a distance, after all.” 

It’s a tightrope he’s danced on for years now—sober enough to talk to the ghosts and do his job, but intoxicated enough to keep his powers from advancing further. He’s well aware that his potential lies far beyond just communicating with the dead; he’s made Ben corporal a few times, but the fear of accidentally bringing the dead into this realm scares him enough to dampen his powers with alcohol. It’s happened once or twice, specifically when the old man threw him into the mausoleum, and Klaus isn’t exactly willing to allow that to happen again. 

“Even me?” Ben winks as he climbs onto the barstool next to Diego. It’s no secret that Ben misses his siblings, and he’s never afraid to show his excitement when they run into one of them. 

“Especially you,” Klaus teases after he takes a drink of wine. Gladys offers her tray of cookies over the counter to Ben, who declines, mumbling out a “no thank you”. 

Diego eyes him for a long moment before shaking his head bewilderedly. “Klaus, you are the weirdest guy I know.”

“People keep telling me that,” Klaus grins.

Silence befalls them before Diego stands up.

“I should get going,” his vigilante brother says, his body angled towards the door, and Klaus sets his glass down on the counter.

“Back to your  _ apartment _ ?” Klaus does air quotes around the word “apartment” as he saunters towards the door. Diego lets out a frustrated sigh. 

“How the hell did you find out about the boiler room?” Diego demands to know as Klaus opens the door. His eyes are narrowed in suspicion, and Klaus can only laugh at that.

“Dear brother, I have eyes and ears everywhere,” Klaus reminds him with a wink, gesturing around him, and Diego's suspicion is replaced with realization. His brother glares at the air around him as if daring any other ghosts to spill any other secrets. As if they would listen to him—they hardly even listen to  _ Klaus _ , for God’s sake. 

Klaus governs their existence, but he doesn’t have any control over what they say. 

“But for real, though,” Klaus gets serious for a moment, looking Diego in the eye. “If you ever need a place to stay, you’re always welcome here. It’s not like I use it much, anyway.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Diego nods, but they both know he’ll never actually take Klaus up on his offer—Diego has more pride than he is stubborn, and that’s saying something. 

With one last good-natured clap on the shoulder from Diego, he leaves, and Klaus leans against the door as he watches Diego walk down the hallway until he’s no longer in sight. 

Klaus sighs as he re-enters his apartment, shutting the door behind him and going back to his glass of wine. 

“What are we gonna do with him, Ben?” Klaus tries to laugh, but it falls flat, and he takes another drink of wine to try and dislodge the lump in his throat. Ben doesn’t answer, because there’s no logical solution here—nothing they can do to try and redirect their brother from the trouble he puts himself in daily. 

Klaus never thought he would be the one worrying about Diego—for most of their lives, it was always the other way around, with Klaus the one being on the receiving side of the lectures. Then, Klaus got off the hard drugs, embraced some of his powers, and created a life for himself. While doing that, Klaus left his brother behind in the dust of his newfound fame and success. 

Klaus downs the rest of his glass, refills it, and falls asleep on the couch while watching the Bachelor. 

It's been a long night indeed.

* * *

A part of Klaus can’t believe he’s actually going back to the mansion. After all, when he ran away almost twelve years ago, he’d sworn he would never return to the house of horrors, that he would never look back. He supposes it’s too late to follow through with that promise, having already visited last night, so he figures he might as well stop by and snoop around his father’s house while he’s in town. 

The first thing he does is get a rental car, not wanting to have to rely on taxi’s his whole stay here. He slides his driver's license across the counter of the car rental service employee, along with a fifty-dollar bill and a kind request to not be given anything ugly. The employee takes both, and while he’s searching through his database Klaus leans up against the counter, raising an eyebrow when he spots Luka, the little ghost boy, for the first time since getting here. 

“Hey, kid,” Klaus nods in a very nonchalant manner, and Ben rolls his eyes with a muttered plea for Klaus to never become a parent. 

Luka says nothing, just stands in the corner of the room and stares at Klaus, his bottom lip trembling as usual. Klaus suspects he was born sometime in the 30s, what with the clothes and cap that are a staple of that era. He’s gaunt and likely died from illness around the age of ten. 

Klaus’ gaze lingers on Luka for a moment longer before the employee gains his attention again, twisting back around to reclaim his driver's license and the keys to his rental—a BMW, hell yeah—and he blows the employee a kiss in thanks before going out to the parking lot to claim his rental. Ben gets in the passenger seat, and Luka phases through the door of the backseat silently. He pulls away, navigating the all too familiar streets towards the House from Hell. 

“Are you gonna try to summon him again?” Ben asks as Klaus makes a left turn, narrowly avoiding hitting a car who had run a red light. He honks his horn frustratedly before responding. 

Klaus remembers Reggie’s cold, emotionless eyes and shivers. “Not unless I have to.”

“Luther will make you.”

“Luther can’t make me do  _ shit _ ,” Klaus retorts, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “Reggie had his chance to make himself known, and I’m not going to go out of my way to summon a monster back into our lives.”

“Yeah,” Ben agrees, and goes back to looking out the window. 

He pulls into the alleyway behind the house, which honestly, looks a lot less threatening during the daylight. He parks behind Diego’s car, balking at the ugly green color of his brother’s heap of junk while turning his own car off. 

“I don’t recommend following me into this shit hole,” Klaus warns Luka, giving him a pointed look through the rearview mirror before getting out of the car, slamming the door shut a little too hard. Luka follows him, despite Klaus’ warning, towards the door that leads into the kitchen, and Klaus thinks the kid is making a mistake, but like he’s said before—he can’t control what the dead do or say. 

When he enters the kitchen, the first thing he notices is that the house is quiet—well, save for the few ghosts that are moping around in the corner of his vision. The lack of movement in the house isn’t inherently strange—it’s a very big house, after all, and they aren’t kids running around anymore. They’re adults, entering this place for probably the last time in their lives before they leave forever, going their separate ways in the process. 

It’s what their father wouldn’t have wanted, but surprisingly Klaus doesn’t feel any satisfaction in light of Sir Reginald’s failure.

After searching for anything edible in the cabinets only to come up short of anything, Klaus goes up to the living room, pausing when he spots Grace dusting the bookshelves in the living room. 

“Klaus, dear,” Grace greets him cheerfully when she notices his presence. “It’s so great to see you!”

“It’s good to see you too, Mom,” Klaus grins and waves. Klaus hadn’t had a strong relationship with his mother, given the fact that he’s always been painfully aware that she’s a robot built by their father to keep an eye on them, but she’s a maternal figure and he’ll always appreciate everything she’s done for them all. Diego is, of course, another story—the biggest mama’s boy Klaus has ever seen. 

Speaking of Diego, the man himself comes into the room, presumably looking for Grace, and he stops when he sees Klaus.

“Long time, no see, brother!” Klaus laughs as if it’s a joke and not a fact. Diego rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Hey, is Luther here? I need to know if I should tiptoe around here or not.”

“Yeah, he’s around here somewhere,” Diego nods, his face darkening just a tad at the mention of Number One. Klaus almost groans at that, because even though Klaus loves his brother, he sure as hell doesn’t like him. Luther’s always had a stick up his ass, and Klaus isn’t looking forward to bumping into him today. 

Klaus leaves Diego with their mother in favor of going upstairs, he and Ben casually walking through the house, soaking in the terrible memories that were made here. Klaus stops when they reach Reginald’s office and decides to enter, curiosity triumphing any sort of ingrained fear he has of his father’s memory. The light filters through the window, brightening the office and making it look less intimidating than it did last night. 

“It feels really weird, being in here,” Ben comments, peering at the books on the bookshelves just behind Reggie’s desk. “I keep thinking he’s gonna come through the door and punish us for being in here.”

“Yeah, well, if Reggie pops up while we’re here I’m out,” Klaus tells him, fiddling with the smaller pens and trinkets on the desk. 

“Then he’ll just end up following us,” Ben points out, glancing at Luka, who is peering in from the doorframe of the room. 

“He’ll be in for a surprise when I send him straight back to Hell,” Klaus giggles, and honestly, the thought is a good one. What a way to stick it to your abusive father, huh? It gets a chuckle out of Ben, too, so Klaus counts it as a success. 

They fall into a comfortable silence as they move around the room, looking for anything of interest. The only pictures sitting on the mantle below Reginald’s portraits are photos of himself, and if that doesn’t give any idea of the kind of man their father was, then, Klaus doesn’t know what will. 

Klaus pauses upon noticing a thin, ornate box sitting on his father’s desk—it’s sitting on the corner of the desk, buried under a stack of papers, and Klaus would place a bet that it hasn’t been touched in a while. He shoves the papers off of the box and picks it up, prying it open with his fingers. 

Inside is a red journal with the letters “RH” engraved in gold among other papers and a few pens. 

“Hey, isn’t that the journal Dad was always writing in?” Ben recalls curiously as Klaus takes it out of the box, setting the box back onto the desk. “He always had it out during training and stuff.”

Now that he thinks about it, Klaus can vividly remember his father writing in this very journal during every training session—he carried it around with him everywhere, whether it was under his arm or open in his hands. Klaus flips through it, recognizing Reginald’s clean and precise handwriting, and is immediately intrigued by its contents. 

“Nobody will miss this, right?” Klaus looks up from the journal, looking at Ben for moral guidance. Ben just shrugs. “I mean, since he’s dead it’ll probably go straight in the garbage later.”

“I guess,” Ben nods, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “But why do you want it, anyway? You don’t ever like to read things.”

“If Reggie kept a diary, you can bet your ass I’m gonna read it,” Klaus grins eagerly. “I cannot  _ wait _ to discover all of his inner secrets. Hey, maybe I can sell it to a publisher and do what Vanya did!”

“Yeah, let’s  _ not _ do what Vanya did,” Ben crosses his arms, a trace of a glower on his face because Ben had been far from happy when they’d read the things Vanya had written in her autobiography. 

Klaus ignores his bristling brother and sticks the journal in his coat pocket with the notebook he always carries around for cases. Not a moment later, Klaus hears footsteps, and he and Ben both turn their heads to see Allison enter the room, phasing right through Luka, who hasn’t moved since they’ve been in here. 

“Allison!” Klaus exclaims joyfully, always happy to cross paths with his sister. He spreads his arms wide open for a hug, which Allison returns with a small smile. Klaus pulls back, his hands on her shoulders, so he can get a good look at her. “You look amazing, darling, absolutely stunning!”

“You look good too, Klaus,” Allison sounds a little surprised when she says it as if she was expecting for him to look a lot less put together than he does now. “You really, uh, cleaned up. You’re sober now?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Klaus nods enthusiastically, “I’ll have a drink from time to time,” Ben scoffs at that, Klaus shoots him a glare, “but I’ve been off the hard stuff for seven years, now. Had to, for work and shit. Couldn’t live on the streets forever, after all.”

Allison eases up a little—Klaus hadn’t missed the way Allison had stiffened when he pulled her into a hug—and her smile gets wider, more genuine. 

“Yeah, I’ve heard about your work,” she says, “Detective Klaus Hargreeves, huh?”

“At your service,” Klaus grins, giving a little bow.

“Have you conjured him?” Klaus and Allison both startle at the new voice, and Klaus looks over to see Luther standing in the doorway and… woah.

Luther got  _ huge _ . 

“Wow, Luther, man, you really… filled out over the years,” Klaus regains his bearings, ready to deal with his insufferable brother in the only way he knows how—by being annoying. Luther is looking at him with an expectant expression on his face as if he’s waiting for Klaus to pull their father out of thin air, and it’s haunting how much Luther looks like Reginald right now. “I see you’ve hit the gym quite frequently, I—”

“Answer the question, Klaus,” Luther cuts him off, wearing the frustrated look he always gets when having to put up with Klaus’ antics. 

And suddenly, all patience Klaus has tried to keep for Number One has gone straight out the window.

“You know, would it kill you to at least say “hello” before asking someone if they’ve conjured your dead father?” Klaus steps forward so he can look Luther straight in the eyes. “Actually, it probably would kill you. Who knows, maybe that’s what killed Daddy Dearest!”

“Don’t joke about that,” Luther bites out through gritted teeth. 

“Whatever, I’m out of here—I hate this room anyways,” Klaus moves around his brother, ignoring the stares he knows are coming from his brother and sister, and leaves the room, knowing fully well the conversation was going to come up again later. He shuts the door behind him as soon as Ben has followed him out, leaving One and Three to talk about whatever they discuss when they’re alone. 

“Luther is twice the size he used to be,  _ holy shit _ ,” Ben’s eyes are twinkling with amusement as they walk down the hallways away from Reginald’s office. “Do you think it’s because of his powers?”

Klaus shrugs, because how the hell would he know? All he knows is that this visit is starting to be everything he thought it’d be, and he’s fighting every urge to walk out the door and leave forever. In the end, he and Ben go and look around their childhood bedrooms. 

Klaus lights a cigarette as they do, daydreaming about the bar downstairs. 

* * *

Luther gathers them all downstairs, and Klaus finally gets the chance to get behind the bar and pour a glass of Brandy for both him and Allison, ignoring Luther when he demands Klaus put his cigarette out, because who put Luther in charge? Dad did, but Dad’s dead, so he has no one else to back him up now. Maybe Allison, but that’s it—the majority is against them now.

Klaus sits down on the couch next to Vanya, who looks very uncomfortable being in the same circle as the rest of them, as she’d always been. Ben leans against the arm of the couch beside Klaus, crossing his arms and waiting for Luther to get on with the “important business”. 

“Like the way he died,” Luther says when Diego asks.

“And here we go,” Diego mutters like this isn’t the first time he’s heard Luther bring this up. 

“I don’t understand, I thought they said it was a heart attack,” Vanya frowns, her voice small. Klaus takes a drag of his cigarette, already tired of this boring conversation. 

“Yeah, according to the coroner,” Luther says matter of factly, and Klaus isn’t sure why this conversation is even taking place.

“Well, wouldn’t they know?”

“Theoretically.”

“Theoretically?” Allison leans forward, unconvinced.

“Look, I’m just saying, at the very least something happened,” Luther explains as Klaus sinks lower into the couch, more focused on not spilling his drink all over him as he pours some into his mouth. “The last time I talked to Dad, he sounded strange.” 

“Ah,  _ Quelle surprise _ ,” Klaus gurgles in a high pitched voice, failing his goal of not trying to spill his drink. 

“That was gross,” Ben says, wrinkling his nose. 

Klaus checks out of the conversation for a minute, not finding anything being said valuable, and if there is, Ben will fill him in later. He’s only brought back in when Luther turns to him, and Klaus knows the question that’s going to be asked all too well. 

“Look, I know you don’t like to do it, but I need you to talk to Dad,” it’s a demand rather than a request, and that rubs Klaus the wrong way—as if he’s nothing more than a medium, just a bridge between the dead and the living. Perhaps he should be used to it by now, but when it’s a member of his family treating him that way he can’t help but be offended. 

“You ask that as if I haven’t already tried,” Klaus sits forward, and that draws his siblings’ attention. “We spent half an hour last night trying to summon him—and it’s the deadest line I’ve ever come across. Sorry to disappoint, Luther, but it looks like Daddy feels he has better things to do than answer your stupid questions.”

“Well, can you—just, try again?” Luther presses on, and Klaus sighs frustratedly as he flops back into his previous position on the couch. Luther and Diego continue arguing over the dumbass monocle until it’s revealed that Luther believes that one of  _ them  _ murdered their father _ ,  _ which is absolutely crazy, and Klaus thinks he’s a pretty good judge of what’s crazy or not. With that, the meeting disperses, leaving Luther standing in the living room as his siblings all go in different directions away from him.

Later, Klaus stands in front of their father’s urn, giving one last attempt to summon Reggie, if not only to be able to put Luther in his place because his accusation is outlandish and quite frankly hurtful. 

They all may hold resentment towards their late father, but  _ none _ of them are cold-blooded killers.

Yet again, Reginald refuses to show up, and Klaus resigns himself to spending the rest of the day in this boring, insufferable house, surrounded by the family he hasn’t seen in years until he loses what’s left of his sanity because really, they can’t stand each other, no matter what any of them say. 

Then, little Number Five falls out of the sky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to know your thoughts if you're willing to share them :)


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoa, it's been a hot second since i've updated this! yeah, sorry about that, i kind of got sidetracked lol, and college is a bitch right now. anyways, i hope you like this chapter, and hopefully it doesn't take me another two months to post the next one. 
> 
> trigger warnings: gore that we see in canon, alcoholism.

Over the years, Klaus has had to learn to use context clues to tell who exactly is alive and who isn’t. Sometimes, the ghosts don’t exactly look bloodied or mangled, which means that for the most part, they’re able to blend in with the living pretty well. As would be imagined, this has created problems for Klaus in the past—he sometimes tends to mix the dead and the living up.

Ghosts almost always look how they died, down to the way their hair was styled or what clothes they were wearing. The only exception to this rule is Ben, and neither of them are sure why Ben looks older and so different than he did seventeen years ago, but they have a theory that given their closeness, Klaus subconsciously uses his powers to make Ben look like he does right now. Thank God for that, because Klaus isn’t sure he could handle a smaller, bloodied version of his brother following him around.

But yeah, ghosts, for the most part, look like they did when they died.

So when little Number Five falls out of the sky, looking exactly the way he looked when he ran away all those years ago, Klaus is sure he’s a ghost.  _ Took him long enough to show up,  _ Klaus thinks to himself as Five pulls himself off of the ground, remembering the numerous times over the years Klaus has tried to summon him. “Does anyone else see... little Number Five, or is that just me?” 

But as it turns out, everyone else  _ can  _ see little Number Five, and he’s actually really there, alive and in a perpetual state of irritation, just as they remember him. 

Though, they soon find out that despite being the same person, Five has changed in ways none of them can understand. Sure, his general personality is still intact; he’s an asshole (but they all are, so that’s nothing new) and he’s still using his powers in the most annoying ways possible, blinking in and out of conversations when he deems someone’s question too stupid to deserve an answer. But then it’s revealed that Five spent forty-five years in the future and it dawns on Klaus that they are no longer equals, now with decades of experiences and skills in between them.

Sure, Five may be physically standing in front of them, but the Five they knew as children was lost to time years and years ago. 

Though, he still eats those sugary peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches, so maybe some things do stay the same. 

What’s curious, though, is the rather large entourage that seems to be gathering around his smallest brother by the minute. 

Klaus and Ben stumble upon them as they’re walking down the hallway towards their bedrooms. Five had disappeared into his room, presumably to change into clothes that fit, so the door to his bedroom is closed, which means there’s a huge amount of ghosts standing in the hallway outside Five’s room, and they’re all glaring or watching the door with the usual intensity of ghosts. 

“Don’t be fooled by his boyish appearance,” the ghost of a woman whispers to Klaus, a bullet wound smack dab in the center of her forehead. It’s a clean shot, with a single drop of blood dripping down her nose and landing on the rug below. “He killed me without even blinking an eye. I don’t think he even remembers my name.”

“The little shit murdered me!” a furious looking man screams, but instead of a simple bullet wound his head is fully bashed in, and his throat is extremely bruised as if strangulated with something. A telltale sign that he put up a fight. “I’m a good man, and he fucking murdered me for  _ nothing _ ! You hear me?  _ For _ _ nothing _ !”

But in the end, it’s the little girl with tears streaming down her face, facing Five’s door with pained confusion clouding her young expression that makes Klaus freeze. 

Like many other ghosts flooding the hallway, she too has a bullet wound directly between her frightened, teary, baby blue eyes. 

Klaus feels sick. 

“I… I’m gonna go somewhere else,” Ben mumbles before phasing through a wall and disappearing. Klaus just stares, the hand that’s holding his cigarette in his hand shaking so badly that he decides to put it out with his foot, not even caring that the ashes are mixing into the grains of the rug. 

A minute later, Five reappears from his room, his hair slicked back in a pristine manner, dressed in his old Academy uniform, and gives Klaus a weird look as he passes by before disappearing down the stairs.

The ghosts follow. 

“Jesus Christ, Five,” Klaus breathes, and for the first time in a very long while he craves something much stronger than weed or alcohol. “What have you  _ done _ ?”

He’ll need to figure out a way to make them disappear, he knows that. He’s pushed ghosts away before, but never more than three or four at a time. There must have been dozens upon dozens of ghosts standing in this hallway, prepared to follow Five all the way through time and space. 

Klaus takes a deep breath and goes to his childhood bedroom, yanking out another cigarette and lighting it, taking a long drag after he does so. After a minute, Luka the little ghost boy joins him in his room, standing in the corner of the room and watching Klaus smoke cigarette after cigarette. 

“Is there something you want from me?” Klaus asks him, his voice hoarse from all the smoke he’s inhaled today. He probably needs to start cutting back. Luka just continues to stare, and Klaus sighs.

He sits there on the bed for a long time, trying and failing to get the image of the sobbing little girl out of his mind. Klaus wonders if she had a case when she was killed and knows that if she did, it probably went cold. Whatever happened to her will likely remain a mystery forever and ever, doomed to never get justice. 

Why would Five kill all these seemingly innocent people? He doesn’t want to believe that his brother is a cold-blooded killer, but the evidence literally haunts him no matter where or when Five goes. Five has always been cocky and ambitious and practical, but underneath it all, he’s a good person—but then again, that’s a version of Five that existed forty-five years ago, and this new version of Five may be capable of these kinds of crimes. 

The questions continue to spin in his head, and for once, Klaus isn’t sure if he wants any of the answers. 

It’s the first case that Klaus truly doesn’t have the stomach to solve. 

* * *

It’s raining by the time they’re all ready to hold a memorial service for their father, which gives Klaus the perfect opportunity to whip out his favorite little pink rimmed umbrella he’s had for years. The others are holding big black umbrellas—which are boring in Klaus’ opinion—except for Luther and Diego, who both elect to stand directly in the rain. Klaus can’t help but roll his eyes at that—of course, his brothers are both too macho to even utilize an umbrella. 

They form a circle in the courtyard, a few feet away from Ben’s statue. 

“God, I hate that thing,” Ben says. Ben is standing on Klaus’ right, Five to his left. “Remember that one time when we snuck in here and painted a bunch of dicks onto it?”

“Well, yes, but I was the one who  _ did _ it,” Klaus reminds his brother, ignoring the side eyes he’s getting from their siblings. For the most part, they’re used to him talking to people they can’t see. “You just stood to the side and giggled the entire time.”

“You were laughing too, that’s why we almost got caught.”

Klaus can’t help but chuckle at the memory, resulting in a dirty look from Luther, who’s holding their father’s urn. He holds up the hand that’s not gripping his umbrella, half in surrender, half in apology, though he doesn’t feel very sorry. As Luther goes back to uncapping the urn, Klaus notices out of the corner of his eye Five looking at him curiously, just like most do when they first see him talking to the ghosts. Neither Diego nor Vanya even spare him a glance—they’re used to this kind of behavior from him. 

The ashes hit the ground in a singular pile, not spreading throughout the courtyard as Luther had likely intended, and Klaus hisses through his shivering. The rain is starting to pick up, pitter-pattering loudly on their umbrella’s and drenching Diego and Luther. “Probably would have been better with some rain,” Luther says awkwardly, still clutching the urn in his large hands.

Pogo begins to speak, going on and on about how Sir Reginald was his friend and how he leaves behind a complicated legacy. Klaus rolls his eyes, and he might’ve said something about the clear bullshit that’s being spewed but Diego beats him to the punch, which is par for the course when it comes to Number Two. 

As all Hargreeves' family functions go, Luther and Diego end up getting into a physical fight. No one else, not even Ben, seems to be enthused by this turn of events, but Klaus thinks it’s rather fitting that this is how Reggie’s funeral is turning out—after all, it’s Reginald’s fault that Luther and Diego are constantly arguing and trying to one-up the other because of the whole Number One and Number Two bullshit. Besides, Klaus is always up to seeing Luther getting his ass handed to him—he loves his brother very, very deep down, but dammit if he isn’t a raging dick sometimes. 

“Hit him, hit him!” Klaus cheers Diego on, cigarette hanging from his lips—sure, the fight is less than ideal, but without refreshments, this funeral would be dreadfully boring if his brothers hadn’t started throwing punches at each other. 

“We don’t have time for this,” Five says exasperatedly, seeming to be partially regretting rejoining their little fucked up family, and Klaus totally would have asked him what he means by that if he wasn’t so engrossed in the fight taking place. 

Then, Luther slams his fist into Ben’s statue, presumably on accident, because Luther had actually liked Ben—but then again, everyone liked Ben. Ben is a likable dude. Klaus might’ve made a bigger deal about watching his dead brother’s memorial statue become another piece of collateral damage from One and Two’s never-ending rivalry, but Ben doesn’t seem too upset, so he lets it go. His sisters, however, seem less than pleased, and Allison says, “great, there goes Ben’s statue” in a tone that conveys that she’s disappointed, but not surprised in the slightest. 

“I bet you’re loving this,” Klaus purrs after everyone else has dispersed and gone inside, crouching down next to his father’s ashes. “Team, at its best. It’s just like old times.”

Klaus jabs his cigarette butt into the ashes with a satisfied grin before standing up, turning to face Ben who has been watching with his hood up this entire time. 

“Alright, let’s blow this popsicle stand,” Klaus says, walking towards the door. Ben doesn’t seem happy about the prospect of leaving, but as far as Klaus is concerned, they’ve already been here long enough. Now, if Ben wants to stick around, he can, but he rarely leaves Klaus’ side these days. Sometimes it’s annoying, most times it’s endearing. 

And then—

Klaus feels a tingle at the bottom of his skull.

Someone else is here. 

“Number Four. Number Six.”

Klaus halts in his tracks at the sound of his father’s emotionless voice. 

“Well,” Klaus spins around slowly on his heels, “you sure took your sweet time, old man.”

The ghost of Sir Reginald stands up straight, peering down his nose at him, and his eyes are even more dead than they had been in life. Then, they shift over to Ben, who is frozen in place, eyes wide as he stares at the ghost of their father. 

“Typical,” Reginald huffs, shaking his head with a disappointed expression that Klaus has seen way too many times. “Always so quick to blame me for your shortcomings, Number Four. Perhaps if you didn’t cloud your powers with your poison you would’ve been able to conjure me sooner. You were always my greatest—”

“Greatest disappointment, I know,  _ blah blah blah _ ,” Klaus cuts Reginald off, which causes his father to scowl—not that Klaus gives a shit because his father is dead and unable to throw him into the mausoleum whenever Klaus pisses him off. “I haven’t forgotten, you know, so you don’t have to tell me every time we have the misfortune of crossing paths.”

His father glances down at his pile of ashes and grunts with clear disapproval.

“Anyways,” Klaus continues once it’s clear Reginald isn’t going to say anything. “I have a date with a bottle of wine that I’m planning on dedicating in your name, you lucky bastard, so let’s hurry this up and get on with it, yeah? Tell me, were you murdered? That question seems to be the hot topic around here today.”

“The cause of my death is hardly a concern,” Reginald replies with a huff, and Klaus raises an eyebrow. “It would seem that Number Five is the only one who understands that.”

Klaus remembers Five’s words:  _ “We don’t have time for this.” _

“Yeah, well, good luck getting that through Luther’s thick skull,” Klaus shrugs, unable to find it in himself to truly care how Reginald died because, at the end of the day, all that matters is that the fucking witch is dead and gone. 

“If he must know, tell Number One that my death was not a murder,” Reginald gives in, annoyance weaved into his tone. 

“So it was a heart attack?” Ben questions, chiming in for the first time since their father’s appearance. 

“Did I say it was?” 

“You’re being weirdly vague, here, Daddy-o,” Klaus frowns. It’s strange—his father is usually a lot more straightforward than this. “Look—whatever. You weren’t murdered, I’ll pass it along. Now, is that all, or can I bid you  _ adieu _ forever?”

“No! Number Four, we still have plenty of business to discuss, preferably in the presence of your siblings. You need to gather them and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I’m gonna stop you right there,” Klaus narrows his eyes, holding up his hand so that goodbye is facing his father. “There’s no way I’m going to be the one to subject them to you, not after all the damage you’ve done to them. I already don’t like that Ben is here, but there’s nothing I can do about that, but I’ll be damned if I let you continue to terrorize the others. The Umbrella Academy is dead and gone, Reggie, just like you, and you’re both gonna stay that way as long as I can help it.”

“Number Four, don’t you dare speak to me like that—”

“Or what? You’ll yell at me for a while, call me names?” Klaus sneers, folding his arms across his chest. “Tough luck, father dear, because now I’m in control of you and there’s nothing you can do about it!” 

“I will not stand here and listen to this—the fate of the world is in danger and yet you continue to preach your foolish, childish ways, with no regard for the bigger picture.”

“Oh, please, Pops, that’s the biggest load of bullshit you ever fed us,” Klaus rolls his eyes, his fingers itching for a drink or smoke. “I’m done with this—have fun rotting in hell,  _ Dad _ .”

“I am warning you, Number Four—”

Klaus doesn’t allow him to finish that sentence, instead waving his hand and pushing Reginald as far away from him as he possibly can. Once he’s gone, Klaus and Ben continue to stand there, staring at the ashes that have now been left behind. It feels like a huge weight off of Klaus’ shoulders, forcing his father away, and his heartbeat begins to finally slow down—he hadn’t even noticed it begin to speed up.

“Hey, Klaus?” Ben breaks the silence, stepping forward. 

“Yeah?”

“Can you make me corporal for a second?” 

Klaus agrees, a bit confused as to why, but the confusion only lasts a moment until Klaus makes Ben corporal and Ben kicks the pile of ashes as hard as he can, sending dust particles and dirt flying everywhere.

“Atta boy,” Klaus cheers as Ben falls back into incorporeality, and Ben mirrors his grin happily. “I hereby announce that this case is closed. Let’s go find Luther and tell him so we can get the hell out of this God awful place.”

The sun has now completely set, leaving pitch darkness in its wake, and that means that most everyone has now pretty much cleared out. When he passes by the stairs that lead down to the kitchen, he can hear Allison and Diego’s voices, but not Luther’s, so Klaus has to assume that Number One is upstairs. Figures that Luther wouldn’t bother to spend time with the rest of his family, even Allison, and instead chooses to be a recluse who enjoys spinning truthless murder stories in his free time. 

He finds his brother in Reginald’s room just as a car starts up outside—likely Diego’s. His gaze falls on Luther’s arm, the spot where Diego cut it open just half an hour earlier, and his eyes widen when he realizes Luther’s arm hair is freakishly long. He hears Ben whisper something along the lines of “what the hell?” which is Klaus’ inner question as well. 

“Whoa, Luther, that’s some seriously long arm hair,” Klaus comments, genuinely shocked by the sight in front of him. Luther turns to glare at him, instinctively placing his hand over the spot where his sleeve is ripped. “Oh, shit, sorry Repunzel, I guess that’s a sore subject for you?”

“Go away, Klaus,” Luther snaps, his eyes narrowed as he turns so his left bicep is out of Klaus’ line of sight. 

“I talked to Dad,” Klaus says, leaning against the doorframe tiredly. Luther pauses, interest seemingly peaked by the mention of their dear old Papa. Typical. Klaus stifles a sigh and continues his report. “He said to tell you that he wasn’t murdered, so you can stop reading into things, big guy.”

Luther frowns contemplatively, seeming unconvinced, which Klaus should have expected, in retrospect—Luther has been stuck in denial since the day he was born. 

“Can you prove it?” Luther finally says, “how do I know you’re not just making this up?”

Klaus’ blood boils. Seriously, what is it going to take to get his family to start believing the things he tells them? He understands that it can be hard to believe in things that are unable to be seen, but everyone in this family likes to live in pure denial whenever Klaus tells them something they don’t want to hear. 

The entire  _ world _ can believe the words that come out of Klaus’ mouth, but for some godforsaken reason, none of his siblings can consider the possibility that  _ maybe  _ Klaus knows what the hell he’s talking about. 

But then again, his talents have always been wasted here.

“I can prove it by showing you the fucking  _ autopsy _ _ report _ ,” Klaus retorts, shifting so that he’s standing fully upright. “Oh, but wait—Diego already did! The proof is there, right under your nose, and yet you want to create a murder case out of literally  _ nothing. _ ” 

“There’s no way it was just a heart attack,” Luther argues, curling and uncurling his fists. “As I said, he sounded strange on the phone, which means there must be something bigger going on here.”

And Klaus gets it, he really does. 

In his years as a detective, he’s done some private work for richer families who can afford it. Sometimes, he’ll come across a case where all the evidence points to accidental death or suicide, but family members never want to believe that because with those types of deaths, there’s no justice to be served. There’s no closure, no bad guy who can suffer in return for the victim’s life. Those cases are never easy, especially because he’s always the one who has to tell the family that life just sucks sometimes.

So he opens his mouth and tells Luther what he tells every spouse, parent, or loved one when there’s nothing left to do but grieve and let go.

“Not every death is a big mystery to be solved, Luther,” Klaus says, trying to keep his voice gentle as possible despite the anger that’s still lingering. “Sometimes people just die, and there’s nothing we can do about it but accept it and move on.”

Luther doesn’t say anything, just glares at him, and Klaus sighs.

“The rest of us all moved on a long time ago. I think it’s time for you to do the same, bro.”

With that, Klaus turns around and leaves the room. 

He’s pretty sure that his words aren’t going to stop Luther from continuing to investigate their father’s death, which, honestly, whatever. Sure, he’d like for his brother to get his head out of his ass and realize there’s an actual life waiting for him outside of the Academy, but if he doesn’t, well, that’s not his problem. Besides, Klaus isn’t sure he can even picture Luther in the real world, getting a mundane office job and living in a regular apartment balancing his bank accounts. Luther is a ghost living inside the walls of his father’s mansion, unable to escape his clutches even in death because he doesn’t even want to. 

Hell, even Ben has seen more and done more than Number One. 

Maybe Allison will be able to talk some sense into Luther—she’s the only one he listens to, anyways.

Speaking of Allison, he runs into her after descending the stairs, and she’s holding the phone in her hands. 

“Hey, someone’s on the phone for you,” she says, holding the phone out towards him. “It’s work-related, apparently.”

“Ah, thanks, sister dear,” Klaus winks at her before grabbing the phone, holding it up to his ear. “Y’ello!”

“Klaus, hey,” Beaman’s voice comes through the line, and Klaus leans against the wall, not sure he’s ready to know what the purpose of this phone call is. “Look, I know today is your father’s funeral, but we  _ really _ need your help down here. I promise I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t such a big…  _ situation _ .”

“How big are we talking?” Klaus frowns, twisting the cord of the phone around his pointer finger. 

Beaman pauses for a moment, which is not a good sign. Ben is watching him confusedly, waiting for Klaus to fill him in. 

“It—it’s a shit show,” Beaman finally answers, which doesn’t answer Klaus’ question. “I can’t even really describe it, uh—we could use your help over here, Klaus. I just— _ please _ .”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, totally,” Klaus tells him. He would’ve told Beaman otherwise, but the officer sounds more stressed out than usual and he’d feel guilty saying no. “Where’s the party, Chuck?”

“Griddy’s, you know it? It’s the doughnut shop just a few blocks away from the Academy.”

Griddy’s. Yeah, Klaus knows it, alright. It’s the place he and his siblings would sneak out to when they were younger before Five disappeared and Ben died—the golden age of the Hargreeves family. 

“Yup, I do—I’m on my way,” Klaus says, and hangs up the phone. Allison has disappeared, probably gone to find Luther, so it’s just him and Ben, like always. “That was Beaman, we’re going to Griddy’s.”

“Did someone die there?” Ben questions as Klaus moves towards the door, pulling his favorite fluffy coat on. 

“I dunno,” Klaus shrugs, and when Ben furrows his eyebrows he elaborates. “He wouldn’t tell me exactly what’s going on—said it was indescribable.”

“Hmm, well that’s never a good sign,” Ben says as Klaus pulls out the keys to his rental car and walks out the front door. Luka is trailing behind them like always, his eyes big and his lip still trembling. 

“No, it’s not,” Klaus agrees as they all pile into the car. “Whatever happened, I think it was bad.”

This is why Klaus wastes no time getting the car started and on the road, speeding down the street with a sense of urgency that he’s never really felt while on the job before. 

Behind them, the mansion gets smaller and smaller until he turns a corner and it’s out of sight entirely, and he wants to believe that this is the very last time he’ll be driving away from the Academy. 

But he seriously doubts it.

* * *

When Klaus pulls into the parking lot of Griddy’s, he immediately understands what Beaman meant by calling it a shit show. The building is surrounded by more police cruisers than Klaus has ever seen in his entire life, and that includes his days at the Umbrella Academy. There’s caution tape blocking off the building from the public, many of whom are standing outside the tape, watching with curious expressions. 

Klaus parks and gets out quickly, hurrying over to Eudora who is leaning against a police car.

“Hey, Eudora, dear, Beaman called me, he said it’s—oh, boy, what do we have here?” 

The frustrated face of Diego is glaring up at him from where he’s sitting in the back of the police car Eudora is standing by, his hands cuffed behind his back. 

“How come he gets to be here?” Diego protests to Eudora, who raises an eyebrow. 

“Because unlike you, we actually  _ do _ need his help,” Eudora answers, and even Klaus winces because he has to admit, that’s harsh. He doesn’t say anything of it, though, because he knows it’s true—if it wasn’t for his ability to talk to ghosts he wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near here either. He would call it luck, but nothing about Klaus’ abilities are lucky. 

Diego’s face twitches with anger, but he doesn’t say anything, just staring straight ahead at the headrest in front of him. 

“I’m gonna head inside,” Eudora tells Klaus, patting the roof of the car twice before turning around and walking towards the building, looking up at the sky and saying in a low voice, “Lord, you test me.”

Klaus is about to follow, but before he does he stops and looks back down at his brother.

“Diego—”

“Save it, Klaus, I don’t want to hear it,” Diego snaps, and Klaus sighs, shutting his mouth, turning on his heel, and walking away. It’s best not to try and talk to him while he’s this upset. Besides, he has a bigger fish to fry.

Klaus walks into Griddy’s and realizes that the fish he has to fry—it’s not even a fish.

It’s a huge ass shark. 

“Holy shit,” Klaus and Ben breathe at the same time.

What once looked like a cute, wholesome doughnut shop now looks like a Hollywood horror set. Bodies are strewn around the shop, all dressed up in black and giving off a Diego type of vibe. One is on top of a table, one is on the bar, and a few others are sprawled across the ground, all dripping with blood. 

“Is that a fucking  _ pencil _ in this dude’s eye?” Klaus stares bewilderedly at the body lying across one of the tables, a pencil stabbed straight through his now unseeing eye. 

“Yeah,” Ben whispers, seeming horrified as he glances around the room. 

“Shit,” Klaus bites down on his bottom lip. “You know what this reminds me of? Our first mission at the bank when we were kids—you remember when Five killed a robber using just a stapler?”

A heavy silence falls between them as they both realize the implication.

“Wait—you don’t think—” Ben cuts himself off, unable to continue whatever he was about to say, and Klaus himself has to swallow hard—he really doesn’t want to think about it, but, well. 

The comparison  _ does _ exist. 

“I—I don’t know,” Klaus shakes his head, not for the first time today wishing that he was high out of his mind right now. “Probably not. I just—it seems similar. The same level of creativity.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Klaus sees Eudora approaching him, and he turns to face her. She looks tired, or, at least, more tired than usual, and very stressed out. Still, despite this, her voice is kind and patient as she asks, “Klaus, is there anyone here who could answer some questions?”

Klaus looks around the room, finding the usual ghosts who hang around here in their usual spots, though they seem to be disgruntled by the sudden out of place commotion. 

None of the recently deceased victims are anywhere to be seen, though.

“No one’s hanging around,” Klaus answers wearily, running his hand through his curls. “I’ll have to try and conjure them.”

Eudora nods in understanding. “Okay. Do you need me to clear this place out?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, the silence would help.”

Klaus waits as Eudora and Beaman herd the other forensic teams outside, he and Ben walking around the shop slowly and taking everything in. One guy was stabbed in the gut with the  _ handle _ _ of a _ _ mop,  _ and when he and Ben see that they make eye contact, only to look away wordlessly because neither of them wants to verbalize what they’re thinking. They split up, taking opposite ends of the shop, the noise level going down until they’re the only two in the shop. 

Klaus stands in the corner of the room where he can see all of the bodies. Usually, he would need a name or something to conjure a spirit, but given that their actual bodies are still here it shouldn’t be too much harder to summon them. He closes his eyes and breathes in deep, trying to calm his heart which is beating fast for some reason, reaching inside himself for his power and searching for the spirits of the victims. They aren’t hard to find, given that they were killed just over an hour ago, and when he opens his eyes again he sees a dark-skinned man standing over his corpse.

“I’m dead, aren’t I?” The man clenches his jaw tight, and Klaus sees a familiar pain in his eyes that he’s seen in so many ghosts before.

“Yeah, I’m so sorry, man,” Klaus smiles apologetically, trying to lighten the mood and failing miserably. “I’m Klaus Hargreeves, I’m working with the city police, and anything you can tell me about what happened tonight would be greatly appreciated.”

The man twists his head, his gaze sweeping around the room, and Klaus waits patiently for 

“Damn,” the man murmurs, his eyes wide. “They said he was the best of the best, but I think  _ that _ was even an underestimation.” 

Klaus and Ben exchange a look before Ben asks, “Who is “he”?”

The man doesn’t answer, not seeming like he even heard the question. 

“He’s fucking unhinged,” the man mutters, glancing around as if he’s looking for whoever he’s talking about. “I don’t know why they even hired him—sure, he’s good, but it was too big of a risk. He’s dangerous and unpredictable, and that’s why I won’t be going home tonight.”

“Hey, dude,” Klaus steps forward, and this gets the man’s attention. “You’ve gotta tell me what’s going on so we can help find whoever did this. Okay?”

The man frowns, contemplating this offer with the utmost caution before nodding his head. 

“Awesome, great,” Klaus sits down on a table, hoping he’s not sitting in a pool of blood. “You keep mentioning a “he”. Does this person have a name?”

The man hesitates. 

“His name is Number Five.”

Shit. 

Klaus feels like he’s been punched in the throat because all of the wind has been knocked out of him. 

It seems the similarities between Five’s previous actions and the evidence left here tonight aren’t just a coincidence, but a clue. 

“Well, there it is,” Klaus deadpans, glancing at Ben who is now staring at the man with the pencil jabbed through his eye. 

“Weird name for a kid, but that’s what they told me it is, at least,” the man continues, not seeming to notice the way Klaus and Ben have both considerably tensed up. 

“I think,” Klaus sighs out of complete frustration. “I think we’re done here, for now. Thanks for your cooperation.”

Klaus waves a hand and sends the ghost away, moving towards the door without saying a word. 

What the hell is Klaus supposed to do about this? He doesn’t exactly want to turn his little older brother into the cops, not without knowing what exactly is going on, but this is his  _ job.  _ He’s paid to talk to ghosts and relay their words, and the world has put a lot of faith in him when it comes to doing that. Vanya’s book already did a number on his image, and another hit could be career-ending. The minute they find out that he’s lied once his credibility goes away, and then he’ll find himself right back where he started—homeless and alone, cursed to never be taken seriously by anyone. 

Still, Klaus decides that just this once, he’s going to have to take the chance. 

He owes it to Five. 

“Did you find anything out?” Beaman asks as Klaus exits the building, he and Eudora both watching him eagerly. 

“I couldn’t conjure anyone,” Klaus lies, and immediately feels guilty once their faces fall. Ben simply walks away, presumably towards the car. “I’m sorry—my powers have been a bit out of whack the last few days. I can try again another time, though.”

“Maybe it’s because your father just died?” Eudora steps forward, reaching out and resting a comforting hand on his arm. “I’m sure this is a highly emotional time for you and your family, Klaus.”

“Yeah, I think that’s it,” Klaus nods, trying to keep his expression as innocent and sad as possible. 

“Thanks for coming out here on such short notice,” Beaman says, his eyes sympathetic. “You’re always such a big help—take some time to yourself, Klaus. You deserve it, man.”

They exchange friendly goodbyes before Klaus begins to walk away back towards the car, pulling his car keys back out of his coat pocket. He ducks under the caution tape and moves forward—but not before a flash of green catches his eye. He glances down next to his shoe to see a tiny, pill-shaped device flashing lime green on the ground. 

He knows he probably shouldn’t touch something that could be evidence, but the device clearly belongs to the guys Five killed, and maybe it could be of use. 

So he reaches down and picks it up, drying it off on his shirt before slipping it into his pant pocket. 

He walks back to the car, getting into the driver's seat but not moving to turn the car on, just putting his hands on the steering wheel and looking straight ahead at the still buzzing crime scene. 

“What are we gonna do about this?” Ben asks after a minute from the passenger seat. “I—we have to track him down and talk to him. It’s pretty clear that those guys were after him, maybe that’s why he killed them.”

Hopefully, that’s what happened, and it wasn’t the other way around. 

“I’ll find the little psycho tomorrow,” Klaus sighs, “I have big plans tonight which may or may not involve getting completely plastered.”

“For once, I honestly can’t blame you,” Ben admits, shoving his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. 

And so Klaus does just that: he goes home and gets so drunk that at one point, he can’t even see Ben anymore. 

But no matter how much he drinks, he can’t get the image of the sobbing little blue-eyed girl out of his head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh!
> 
> Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? You know I love 'em!


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hopefully it won't take me two months to update again."
> 
> Whoops, sorry about that. I'm all over the place right now—I have so many projects that I can never finish a damn thing. That being said, I've decided to really commit to finishing this story because I really care about it and it's a lot of fun. 
> 
> That being said, I hope you like this update! :)

The sun is just beginning to seep through the cracks of the living room curtains when Klaus starts awake, buried under a pile of empty bottles of alcohol and a splitting headache. He immediately groans, draping an arm over his eyes in a poor attempt to block out the morning light, bottles clinking together as they’re rustled by the movement. He’s still in yesterday’s clothes, having gone straight to the alcohol cabinet last night after entering the apartment. 

So, all in all, it’s just like any normal day in Klaus’ life. 

“You know, it’s honestly a miracle that you haven’t died of alcohol poisoning yet,” Ben’s voice pipes up from somewhere in the living room. 

“Is it a miracle or a curse?” Klaus grumbles from underneath his arm. He can feel the heat of Ben’s glare without even looking at him, knowing full well that his brother hates when he says things like that. In order to sidestep another potential lecture about needing to appreciate his life and yada yada yada, he quickly tries to change the subject. “So… did all of that really happen yesterday, or did I just have the weirdest fever dream of all time?”

“By “all of that” do you mean our father dying, a thirteen year old Five falling out of a portal in the sky surrounded by a fuckton of ghosts, seeing our father’s ghost, and then later investigating a crime scene where one of the victims had a pencil stabbed through his eye and another was stabbed with the handle of a mop and it turned out to be our newly returned brother who is actually fifty-eight? Because if you’re talking about all of that, then yes, it really happened.”

Klaus blinks.

“I need a drink,” he declares finally, sitting up and stretching his arms, causing many bottles to clatter onto the ground. He’s sure a couple have shattered, so he makes a mental note to clean that up later. For now, all he cares about is stumbling into the kitchen and pulling out a new bottle of vodka. 

“You need to make better life choices,” Ben rolls his eyes, moving to sit on one of the barstools behind the counter. “Seriously, I think you drank enough last night to put down a horse.”

Glancing over at the living room, which is trashed with cans and bottles, Klaus finds he has zero evidence to deny Ben’s claim. Instead, he sidesteps Gladys as he pulls open the fridge, scanning the shelves, hoping food magically appeared inside while he was away yesterday. As usual, no such luck. 

However, as much as Klaus would love to drink the gruesome images living in his head away, deep down he knows he can’t. For one, he’s sure Ben won’t let him do that—though his brother can’t physically make him stop drinking, he’s become a master of the art of nagging. More than that, though, despite his dislike of the dead, he does feel an obligation to help them when he can, and the ones following his brother clearly need help moving on. 

Which means he probably needs to find Five and ask him a few questions. 

“Maybe it’s all just a misunderstanding,” Klaus suggests aloud as he pours water into the coffee machine, flipping the switch to turn it on. He doesn’t usually drink coffee at home, but there’s an almost empty bag of coffee grounds in the back of his pantry so he feels he might as well use it. “For all we know, maybe there are  _ two _ Number Fives.”

“Yeah, that sounds likely,” Ben says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and Klaus shoots him a glare with no actual heat behind it. “Number Five is what all the people are naming their children.”

“I’m just trying to be optimistic,” Klaus shrugs, leaning his back against the kitchen counter as he waits for the coffee to brew. 

Really, it’s just better than admitting that his long lost brother is now perhaps a cold-hearted killer. 

“How are we even going to find the psycho, anyway?” Klaus questions as he pulls a mug out of the cupboard, taking it to the sink to rinse the dust off of it. 

“He’s probably at the Academy,” Ben says. Klaus groans. 

“That means I’m gonna have to see Luther,” Klaus complains as he pours the fresh coffee into his mug. He takes a sip, grimacing at the bitter taste, but he has no creamer or sugar to make it taste better. Unfortunately, he’ll have to power through the horrible taste. “God, I know we’re all assholes, but he’s seriously insufferable. I don’t know how you like him.”

“I’ve never said I  _ like  _ him,” Ben folds his arms across his chest, “I do care about him, though, because he’s  _ family _ , Klaus.”

“Technically, so was Dad,” Klaus dares to point out, and Ben gives him a dirty look in response. 

“I think  _ you _ can be pretty insufferable a lot of the time, you don’t see me crying about it.”

“Just for that comment alone, you have to eat one of Gladys’ cookies,” Klaus says through narrowed eyes, jabbing a thumb at the bleeding ghost with her usual tray of ghost cookies. Gladys’ eyes widen at his words, and with a pained smile, she holds the tray out towards Ben, who has to politely refuse. 

Klaus hides a chuckle behind his mug of coffee. With Ben busy, Klaus bends so both of his elbows are resting on the counter and presses down on the blinking button on his answering machine with his pointer finger. He doesn’t remember the phone ringing last night (though, to be fair, he doesn’t remember  _ anything _ last night past stepping foot in this apartment). 

The machine beeps once and plays the first message. 

“Hey,  _ bro _ ,” the voice of a very annoyed Diego says through the speakers. Klaus has to strain his ears to hear him over the signature sounds of the city jail in the background. “They gave me a phone call and I’m using it to say  _ screw you, asshole. _ Okay, see you, bye.”

With a click, the message is over, and Klaus rolls his eyes. Diego always gets testy when he gets arrested, which more often than not results in this kind of behavior. 

“Good luck, Eudora,” Klaus mutters under his breath—he can only imagine what she’s having to deal with right now. He presses the delete button and moves onto the next message.

“Hi, Klaus, it’s Eudora,” Eudora’s voice says, and in contrast to the last message, this is a very pleasant surprise. “I just wanted to call and say thanks for your help these last few days. Things are getting crazy around the station and… well, any help you can give us we’re always appreciative.”

The detective sounds tired, and guilt starts to build within him for leaving her hanging last night. 

She pauses for a moment. Then, “I have to deal with your brother. If you find any info, give me a call, okay? Thanks, Klaus.”

The message ends. Klaus rubs his hand on his face, tightening his grip on his coffee mug with the other. Gladys has disappeared, leaving Ben sitting alone, his brown eyes trained on Klaus.

“Klaus,” Ben says, “what are you going to do if we discover something we don’t want to know?”

It’s a fair question, all things considered. It’s a tough one, too, though, because Klaus has never had to deal with a conflict of interest like this before. His family has never affected his career (save for Vanya and her dumb book, of course), so now he’s in unfamiliar territory. 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Klaus decides, ignoring the widening pit in his gut as he straightens up and takes another sip of coffee.

Suddenly, a flash of blue fills the kitchen and disappears as quickly as it came, leaving Number Five standing in his apartment. Klaus lets out a startled yelp, jumping a foot in the air and accidentally dropping the mug of coffee, which falls and shatters on the kitchen tile. 

“Christ on a cracker,” Klaus cries out, clutching his hand over his racing heart. Regaining his bearings, he focuses on his newly arrived brother, who has a rather smug look on his face. “What the hell? Why can nobody in this family learn to  _ knock _ ?”

“Knocking would be a waste of time,” Five tells him, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his shorts. 

“Manners are never a waste of time,” Klaus grumbles sourly, turning his attention to the broken glass and brown liquid on the ground. “Great, and that was the only mug I own.” 

“Why do you only own one mug?” Five furrows his eyebrows.

Klaus shrugs as he reaches under the sink and grabs a small dustpan. 

“I hardly even live here,” he says as he begins sweeping the wet glass into the dustpan. “I don’t even know why I still pay for this place, really. I should sell it. Then, every time I come into town, I can stay at a nice hotel where rude family members can’t find me.”

No matter how seriously he suggests such an idea, he knows he would never go through with selling this apartment. Really, he does love his siblings—yes, even Luther, though he’ll never utter the words out loud—and this apartment is a way for them to find him or simply have a place to stay if he’s not in town. Especially for Diego. His brother struggles, and so no matter how annoyed Klaus gets with him, he’ll always leave his living room windows unlocked. 

He dumps the glass into the trash and grabs a rag to clean up the rest of the coffee on the ground. 

“That sounds rather dramatic,” Five comments with a brow raised. 

“That’s me, resident drama queen,” Klaus winks, tossing the rag into the sink and pouring the leftover coffee down the drain. It was disgusting coffee, anyway.

Five looks around the rest of the apartment, and his eyes land on the couch buried in empty bottles. 

“Looks like you were busy last night,” Five says, and Klaus doesn’t miss the judgmental tone in his voice. It only bothers him a little bit—he’s pretty used to being judged for his less than stellar habits. 

“You could say that,” Klaus sweeps a glance around his kitchen which is growing more crowded by the minute. Many of the ghosts he recognizes from yesterday, including the little blue-eyed girl with who he refuses to make eye contact and the soldier with the pencil stabbed into his eye. The latter of which reminds him of today's task. “But I wasn’t the only one busy last night, was I?”

Five’s face goes blank, which is a telltale sign that he’s caught off guard. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says stoically, but his hands are twitching. 

“Mmhmm, sure you don’t,” it’s Klaus’ turn to raise an eyebrow as he leans back against the counter. “You go to Griddy’s often, bro?”

Five’s face twists in confusion. “How do you know about that?” 

Klaus laughs—his siblings not understanding what his powers are will never get old. 

“Five-o, whenever a body turns up I’m the first person the station calls,” Klaus explains, and realization dawns upon Five’s features. “The ghosties had a lot to say about you, believe it or not.”

Five nods, frowning thoughtfully while tapping his fingers against the counter. 

“I forgot about your profession. That could come in handy,” Five says, seemingly to himself. Then, he says in a louder voice, “Go put on your nicest outfit—we’re leaving in five minutes.”

Klaus and Ben exchange unsettled glances. 

“Leaving to go where?” Klaus questions.

“Meritech,” Five answers, seeming distracted by his thoughts. “You’re going to help me get a file. Now go get dressed, we don’t have time to lollygag.”

“Whoa, hold on a tick,” Klaus says, which results in Five giving him an annoyed glare. “Five, you’re gonna have to give me more than that.”

“You don’t need to know anything else,” Five scowls, but Klaus isn’t willing to back down just yet. 

“Actually, I think I do,” Klaus retorts, gripping the edge of the counter so tight his knuckles are turning stark white. “Because right now, all I know is that you have a shit ton of ghosts following you and that your name is tied to the murders at Griddy’s last night. Contrary to popular belief, I  _ do _ take my job very seriously and that means I’m not going to keep lying to my colleagues' faces to save your ass.”

Ben straightens up in his seat, pride shining in his eyes, and Klaus has never felt more accomplished in his life.

Five’s eyes darken and narrow, and his hands begin to twitch.

“You’re going to give me up,” it’s a statement, rather than a question. For a moment, Klaus wonders what Five would do if he says yes. He’s not sure he wants to find out.

Klaus sighs and loosens his grip on the counter. 

“I need a reason not to,” Klaus says. “What’s going on, Five? Who were those people you killed last night, and why are there so many dead people following you around?”

Five’s body language gets a little less defensive as he considers Klaus’ for a moment. 

“And this is the only way you’ll help me?” Five asks wearily. 

Klaus firmly nods.

So Five tells him everything. 

“I was a temporal assassin working for the Commission, a time-traveling agency that monitors the timeline. I broke my contract with them to come back here, which is why those guys at Griddy’s were after me—they don’t take kindly to their employees up and quitting like that.”

“So, last night was self-defense,” Klaus concludes. He’s now sitting on the kitchen counter, his legs swinging against the wood cabinets below. 

“Right,” Five agrees.

“Okay,” Klaus says before his eyes drift over to the crying little blue-eyed girl. A bad feeling begins to take over him as he forces himself to look away. “And… the other kills… those were self-defense too, right?”

The grim look Five gives him is the only answer Klaus needs. 

“The timeline needed correcting,” Five says. “I was ordered to correct it.” 

Suddenly, Klaus becomes hyper-aware of every ghost standing in his kitchen. They all have their eyes trained on Five, some out of anger and others out of sadness. So many lives were destroyed, so many souls unable to move on towards the light. 

Klaus shifts uncomfortably and decides to change the subject. 

“Why do you need a record from Meritech?” Klaus asks, and Five seems relieved by the topic change as well, given the way his shoulders release the tiniest bit of tension. 

Five reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out… an eye?

“I need to find the owner of this eye,” Five says, gazing down at the glass eye gripped between his fingers. “I have reason to believe the person this eye belongs to is going to do something very bad.”

That catches Klaus’ attention more than anything. 

“What do you mean, very bad?” Klaus slides off the kitchen counter, his feet landing firmly on the ground. “Do I need to call the station?”

“What? No,” Five says firmly, but Klaus remains skeptical regardless. “I’ve got this under control.”

“Five, if something bad is about to happen, I need to know,” Klaus argues, already eyeing the phone. Eudora is one call away. “You said you needed my help—this is how I can help.”

Five takes a deep breath to calm his frustration. 

“Klaus, you can’t help, not with this, so just drop it, alright?”

“C’mon, man, that’s bullshit. Just tell me what’s—”

“The world is ending in seven days,” Five blurts out, and Klaus snaps his mouth shut. “The owner of this eye causes the _fucking apocalypse_ , Klaus. _That’s_ why your cop friends can’t help.” 

Silence hangs over them.

“Shit,” Ben whispers, and Klaus doesn’t have much to add to that. 

“But you can help me right now, so can you  _ please  _ go get dressed and come with me?” 

Klaus is pretty sure he’s never heard Five say the word “please” in his life. Five has never been one to ask politely for what he wants, instead opting to demand his way through the world—which, in the end, is what got him stuck in time. That alone is enough to convince Klaus to go along with what his brother wants him to do, but there’s also an intense vulnerability shining behind Five’s usually emotionless—or angry—eyes. 

“Yeah, Five, okay,” Klaus agrees softly, and Ben nods in unity. “Just give me a few, alright? We’ll get this figured out together.”

With that, Klaus heads into his bedroom, waiting for Ben to follow him inside before pushing the door shut. Leaning against the closed door, Klaus closes his eyes for a moment and tries to process everything he’d just learned. It was a hell of a story, that’s for sure, but Klaus isn’t sure it was the story he was hoping to hear. 

“Klaus, you have to be careful,” Ben warns from where he’s lounging across the bed. The bed is still perfectly made from when he’d done it up five months ago. He should probably stop sleeping on the couch so often. “One wrong move and you could lose everything you’ve worked so hard for.”

Klaus remembers the year after Vanya’s book had been published—it was the hardest year of his career. The things she wrote in that book had almost damned him completely, and he still hasn’t fully come back from some of the allegations, but he managed to regain the majority of the world’s trust. He’s spent the last few years proving Vanya’s words wrong, but is that more important than the world ending? 

“I should have stayed in Chicago,” Klaus mumbles before getting up to search through his wardrobe. 

Ben doesn’t disagree with that statement. 

* * *

Smartly, Klaus refuses to let Five spatial jump them to their destination, and instead opts to drive his rental car. Five doesn’t seem too happy about it, but he doesn’t argue, likely because he doesn’t want to make Klaus back out of helping him. So now, Klaus speeds down the streets of the city, with Five in the passenger seat and Ben and Luka sitting in the back. 

“Do you know how to play sticks?” Klaus hears Ben ask Luka. “It’s a finger game. Did they play that in the old days?” 

As expected, Luka doesn’t respond, and so Ben gives up with a sigh, resolving to spend his time staring out his window. 

“Are you sure you don’t need directions?” Five asks unsurely as Klaus takes a sharp left turn. 

“I’m positive, Gizmo,” Klaus says, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. The paint on his nails is beginning to chip, to his chagrin. “I had to go to Meritech for a case around two years ago—the killer of this woman left his bloody prosthetic arm at the scene of the crime, and we took it to Meritech to identify it.”

“And they just gave you the info?” 

“Well, we had a warrant for that case,” Klaus says. He glances over at Five, who is staring straight ahead. “I could get a warrant for this case too if you’d let me take it to the police.”

“No,” Five shakes his head. “They’ll just get in my way. We’ll get the file out of this guy, one way or another.”

Klaus sincerely hopes “one way or another” doesn’t mean murder—he really doesn’t want any more ghosts hanging around him and his family members. 

When Klaus pulls up in front of the Meritech building, Five flashes out of the car and makes a beeline for the front doors. Klaus has to scramble to park the car and jump out, and when he reaches the building Five is already standing in the Meritech lobby. 

“Great teamwork,” Klaus sarcastically says. Five only rolls his eyes and jabs the elevator button with his finger. After a few moments, the elevator doors open with a ding. Five steps inside and Klaus follows, but when Five reaches to press the button to close the door Klaus quickly blocks the movement. “Hold on, Five, we’re not all here yet.”

“Thanks, man,” Ben says as he hurries into the elevator, little Luka right behind him. “I would hate to take the stairs all the way up.” 

“Yeah, because you really need the cardio,” Klaus teases as he allows the doors to finally slide shut. It’s not until the elevator begins to rise that he notices Five staring at him with a weird look on his face. “I like it when some of the ghosties stick with me.”

“You used to hate all the ghosts when we were kids,” Five ticks a brow upwards. “Now they’re your friends?”

Klaus shrugs. 

“A few of them are, yeah,” Klaus says, leaning his body against the back of the elevator. “When ghosts are your entire livelihood, you eventually start to warm up to them.”

Five hums in understanding. 

“Do you have friends who aren’t dead?” Five asks, and Klaus is caught off guard by a question so far out of left field. 

“Of course I do,” Klaus gives him a weird look because it’s such a strange question. 

“I was just curious,” Five says, turning his head and training his eyes on the metal elevator doors. “I haven’t been around for a while.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got plenty of living friends,” Klaus says, and he does, right? Eudora is practically one of his best friends, and he’s made many connections with people all over the world while on the job. There is nobody more sociable than him, and he takes pride in that. 

Less than five minutes later, Klaus finds himself in the office of the executive of Meritech—they’ve met before, but Klaus can’t quite recall his name. 

He’s pretty sure it’s Grant. The dude looks like a Grant. 

“Detective, what a surprise,” Grant says, standing up from behind his desk. “What can I do for you?”

Klaus puts on his best detective smile and steps forward to shake the man’s hand. Grant motions towards the two chairs in front of his desk and then returns to his own seat. 

“I’m assuming you’re here for a case?” Grant questions, tilting his head with curiosity. 

“As always,” Klaus confirms. “Now, I can’t give you a warrant because this case is top secret, but we have a prosthetic eye here that we need identified. Would you be able to do that for us?”

Grant settles back in his chair, wearing a troubled frown. 

“I’m sorry, Detective, but I’m afraid I can’t share information like that without patient consent or a warrant from the city.”

“I see,” Klaus nods slowly, glancing over at Ben to see if he has any ideas. 

“I think our best bet is getting a warrant,” Ben says from where he’s perched on the windowsill. “I’m sure your status could help it get pushed along faster.”

Klaus has to agree with him. There’s not much he can do here, besides letting a bristling Five loose to get the file  _ his _ way. He turns to respond to the executive, but before he can say anything, his eye catches on Luka—who is pointing up at the ghost of a woman standing behind Grant. 

There are multiple ghosts in this room, but he’d assumed they were all Five’s ghosts. 

It would seem that’s not the case.

“None of this is real,” the woman giggles. She’s missing an arm, and her stomach is split open, bruised, and oozing with blood. It looks like a bus ran her over, literally. “He’s lying. There are no patients.”

“Well then,” Klaus raises his eyebrows and turns back to Grant. “That’s curious.”

“What?” Grant and Five both ask at the same time. 

“It’s going to be hard to get patient consent if there are no patients to get consent from, huh?” Klaus leans forward in his chair, clasping his hands together in his lap. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I have a lot of buddies down at the station,” Klaus tells him with a smirk. “It would be a shame if I sent them here to investigate this whole… business, wouldn’t it?”

Grant narrows his eyes, and Five looks completely lost, which is a first for the boy genius. 

“Are you blackmailing me?” Grant demands.

“I dunno,” Klaus shrugs, “is there something here for me to blackmail you with?”

The woman behind Grant seems to think so. Grant flounders for a moment, taken aback. 

“Of course, you could simply tell us the name and I’ll walk away without a word.”

Grant ends up agreeing to the terms, and Klaus takes pride in the impressed look on Five’s face. Unfortunately, a bit of digging reveals that the eye hasn’t been purchased yet, rendering all of this work for nothing. Klaus follows Five out of the building, not blind to the storm brewing in Five’s eyes. 

“Maybe we could check back in a couple of days,” Klaus suggests, lowering his body to sit next to Five on the Meritech steps. 

“I don’t have time to wait around,” Five argues through gritted teeth. 

“Yeah, fair enough,” Klaus sighs and rests his chin in the palm of his hand. They sit there in silence as Klaus allows his brother to cool down a little. It’s a nice day outside—it’s so hard to believe that all of this could just be… gone in a few days. 

“I’m proud of you, Klaus,” Five says suddenly, and Klaus’ jaw drops for a moment. This is the first time he’s ever heard any of his siblings say those specific words to him—save for Ben, of course, but Ben is different. Sure, he can pick up on it in the way Allison looks at him or in the way Diego claps him on the shoulder, but none of them have ever said the word. He’s never particularly minded, figuring that was a word he was never going to hear from any of them, but here he is. 

“Really?” Klaus can’t stop himself from saying.

“Yeah,” Five nods, eyes trained on the street ahead. “You really cleaned yourself up. Created a life for yourself. That’s a huge accomplishment, you know.”

“Yeah,” Klaus smiles, looking down at his shoes. “Thanks, Hermano _. _ ”

“Which is why I’m going back to working solo,” Five continues, and Klaus’ head snaps up. 

“What? Why?” Klaus furrows his brows, twisting his body to face his brother, who is now getting to his feet. 

“Klaus, you and I both know you have too much to lose if you keep helping me,” Five says, voice stern. “You need to go home and carry on as usual.”

“Five, you shouldn’t have to do this on your own,” Klaus protests, standing up.

“Klaus, I’ve been on my own for over four decades,” Five says, and Klaus’ heart breaks at that. “I’m grateful for your help but this is where our partnership ends. I’m not going to be the reason you lose everything.”

“Five, no, wait—” Klaus calls, but Five turns around and flashes away, leaving him standing alone on the Meritech steps. 

All of Five’s ghosts disappear too.

“Well,” Klaus says to Ben, who also seems conflicted. “I guess it’s now business like normal?”

“Our business is never normal,” Ben points out, hands tucked into his hoodie pocket. “But yeah, I guess.”

They start walking back to the car, Luka right on their heels. 

“Does that mean I should go home and clean up the living room?” Klaus asks as they walk.

“Depends. Would you consider cleaning to be normal business for you?”

“Not really, no.”

He cleans the living room anyway.

* * *

The night is clear and crisp—the stars are more visible than usual, which still isn’t a lot because it’s the big city. Klaus, warm in his favorite coat, walks down the sidewalk towards the Irish Republic. The city isn’t at all busy, given it’s a weeknight, and so Klaus walks into a nearly empty bar. 

“Klaus!” Harry, the owner of the Irish Republic cheers when he walks in. “Good to see you, man!”

“Yeah, you too, Harry,” Klaus gives him a tired smile, practically falling into a seat at the bar. 

“Hey, I heard about your father,” Harry says sympathetically. “That must be rough, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” is all Klaus bothers to say, getting tired of explaining that his dad was actually a piece of shit and that the world is very much better off without him. 

“I’ll get you your usual—on the house.”

“Harry, thanks, but you don’t have to do that,” Klaus says, but Harry waves him off as he begins to make his drink. He slips off his coat and sets it on the surface of the bar. 

After leaving Meritech, Klaus made a rare productive decision and took a trip to the local grocery store, grabbing some food and other supplies to stock his apartment with. He’s not too sure how long he’s going to be sticking around town, but since he’s here he might as well fill the fridge—and, more importantly, the alcohol cabinet.

He also bought himself a new mug.

Harry slides the drink over to him, and Klaus accepts it gratefully. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in here, you know,” Harry comments as Klaus takes a sip of his drink. He relishes the burn of the alcohol in his throat. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Ah, you know, the usual jobs,” Klaus answers. 

“Any interesting cases you can tell me about?”

“Hmm,” Klaus swirls the drink around in its glass as he considers the question. “The wife of a wealthy businessman in Japan was murdered four months ago. Everyone thought the husband did it, and they were ready to sentence him but decided to wait for me to clear up my schedule. I got there and when I finally talked to her she told me it wasn’t the husband after all, but their eight-year-old son.”

Harry whistles at that. “Eight years old? That’s crazy.”

“Yeah, you see a lot of crazy shit in this profession.”

Klaus tips back his head and downs the entire drink in one gulp. 

“Refill?”

“Please.”

Three drinks later, and he’s beginning to feel buzzed. The bar is filling up as the night goes on, and so Klaus sits alone staring into his almost empty drink. Next to him, Ben is reading a book—the same book he’s always reading. Klaus has never asked if that’s his favorite book or if it’s the only one he has. If he had to guess, it’s probably the latter. 

The bell above the door rings again, and a few moments later someone sits in the seat next to him. 

“Holy shit, are you Klaus Hargreeves?” the man sitting next to him exclaims. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” Klaus gives a half-hearted wave. He gets this all the time from strangers, so he’s not exactly bothered. 

“Whoa, man, the work you do is so damn cool,” the guy says excitedly. He’s practically bouncing up and down in his seat. “Like, the lady and the kid from Japan a few months ago? That was so damn interesting.”

“Wasn’t it?” Klaus forces a grin because he’s trying to keep the image of the woman sobbing, covered in blood as she repeats her son’s name out of eternal heartbreak. He has a feeling she still hasn’t moved on, and Klaus can’t even blame her for that. Not in the mood to keep this conversation up, Klaus stands up and mutters something about taking a piss before walking towards the bathroom. 

“Japan wasn’t very fun,” Ben comments quietly from behind as Klaus washes his hands in the sink. “I don’t know why you keep telling people that story.”

“It’s a conversation starter, Benerino,” Klaus mumbles, but his heart isn’t into it. “Look, people are always going to ask questions. That’s always been apart of the job.”

Ben falls silent, and when Klaus turns around he finds that his brother has his “pondering” face on. 

“What?” Klaus frowns, wiping his hands dry on his pants.

“I just—would it hurt to maybe step back a little from this job?” 

Well, that is  _ not _ what Klaus was expecting to hear Ben say. 

“What do you mean, step back?” Klaus questions and Ben fidgets. “I thought you love what we do.”

“Klaus, of course, I do, but—” Ben cuts himself off before sighing. “We’re always traveling around the world, never in the same spot for more than a week. We haven’t been back here in  _ five months _ !”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Klaus demands, flailing his arms in the air. “There’s hardly anything here for us, remember?”

“Diego’s here,” Ben counters stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Vanya’s here, so is Mom, and now Five and Luther are back too.”

There’s a wistfulness in Ben’s eyes that makes Klaus back down—it’s so strong and full of love. Sometimes, he forgets how much Ben misses the others. Though he himself can’t share the same sentiments about their siblings, Ben’s the kind of person who sees the good in everyone, no matter how much of an asshole someone may be. 

Just like he’s always seen the good in Klaus. 

“Ben, you know you don’t always have to come with me, right?” Klaus leans back against the bathroom sink. “You can stay here if you want. I know it won’t be the same, but…”

“This isn’t just about me, Klaus,” Ben says. “This is about you, too.”

“How the hell is this about me?”

“This lifestyle isn’t healthy,” Ben argues, which Klaus strongly disagrees with. He’s always thought traveling around the world with his brother is a roaring time. “You’re so immersed in the fates of the dead that you’re not spending enough time in the world of the living!” 

“The dead like me more,” Klaus blurts out. It’s not a fact that he regularly admits, but it’s true. Sure, maybe the dead annoy him more, but the fact of the matter is that the dead need him and the living don’t, and he’s always chased the feeling of being needed and liked. 

Ben’s eyes soften at the admission. 

“I don’t think that’s true, Klaus,” Ben says, unfolding his arms and placing his hands back into his hoodie pocket. “There’re plenty of alive people who like you. Eudora and everyone at the city station, Diego even if he can be a dick sometimes, the rest of the family even if they have a hard time showing it.”

Klaus swallows hard.

“Look, I’m not saying to up and quit,” Ben says, “but maybe we could spend a little more time here in the city. You know, make your apartment look like someone actually lives there.”

It’s not the most exciting idea in the world, but maybe Ben has a point. Even after all this time, he still considers this city his home, despite all the bad memories that come with it. Who knows, perhaps he could spend more time with his estranged siblings and get to know them better—given Five is successful in his mission to save the world from ending. 

“I wouldn’t mind sticking around for a little bit,” Klaus tells Ben, who immediately lights up at his words. Yanking the bathroom door open, he makes his way back over to his seat at the bar, where a new drink is waiting for him. “I really like this bar, you know. Plus, Griddy’s is here—we should go there once it’s no longer a crime scene.”

The guy who was previously next to him is gone, but that’s not surprising—Klaus was in the bathroom for a while. Klaus downs this drink, and the next, and then the next, and soon his world is a blur of colors and happiness. He grabs his coat and waves goodbye to Harry after paying his tab, promising to be back real soon—he always promises that when he’s leaving, but this time he means it. 

“Let me know when you see a cab,” Klaus tells Ben, who has a better sense of sight at the current moment. “Ugh, I’ll have to come back tomorrow to get my car. Do you think I’ll get fined for that? I’ll be parked there for more than eight hours. Should I buy my own car if I’m gonna be staying here for a while? Should I get a—”

Klaus is cut off mid sentence by a large pair of arms grabbing him around the waist and mouth, pulling him into the shadows of an alley. He tries to scream, but the hand on his mouth muffles any sound he makes, and then he feels the cool, heavy barrel of a gun pressed to the back of his head. Out of the corner of his eye, all he can see is the colors pink and blue blurring together. 

Then, there’s a sharp pain in his head and everything goes dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll see y'all next time!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I very much enjoy feedback. Don't we all, though?
> 
> Next chapter should be out in a few days!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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